Timeless
by Laura178
Summary: Quil and Claire's story. Claire is now 15 years old and thinks of Quil as her goofy best friend. And Quil is just beginning to realize how hard it is to have fallen in love with a two year old. All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_Beeeeeep._ The overloud squeal of a car horn made me jump. Not a good idea since I was trying to swipe some mascara over my lashes. I took one last look in the mirror. I analyzed my reflection for a moment: average height, curve-less, long boring dark hair. I laughed at the two pitifully small lumps on my chest. _As good as it's going to get_, I told myself. I looked out the window and sighed- raining in LaPush. What a shocker.

I slung my backpack over my shoulder and grabbed my brown paper lunch bag on the way out, stopping only to peck my mom on the cheek. She was on her way to work. Since my Dad had left us, she always seemed to be working.

"Geez, Quil," I said, annoyed. "Would it kill you to wait five seconds?"

His lips twitched up at the corners. "Maybe," he answered, "But I'd rather not find out."

As soon as my door was shut and my seatbelt securely on- Quil was such a worrywart all the time- we took off. Quil drove a beat-up jeep wrangler, in a deep chocolaty brown, like his eyes.

Quil's car was probably as old as he was. Which is another way of saying that I know nothing about cars. I didn't know how old Quil even is. He looks like he's in his twenties, but sometimes he would crack up laughing and I could swear he looked seventeen. Other times, he would get all serious and look like he was fifty years old or something.

I didn't know a whole lot about Quil- he's always just been around. I remember him being there when I was a little kid, taking me back and forth to t-ball and that when my mom wasn't around. I didn't even know what his job was, other than that he worked with my Uncle Sam. Quil is probably my best friend, which is a little weird. What's a twenty something guy doing with a fifteen-year-old best friend, right?

Whenever I had asked Quil why he didn't find someone cooler to hang out with he always just said, "I'd rather hang out with you," and sigh, "even if you're not cool." Then I would stick out my tongue at him until I had to bust up laughing at his face.

Quil's face was always happy, and when he wasn't moving, he was laughing. The only times I could ever remember him being serious were when I was hurt. Like the time my Dad had left, or when I had broken my arm, effectively ending my t-ball career at age seven. Dang.

"Okay, time for jail- I mean school," Quil teased, pulling up to the grey, windowless building. He was right; the place did look like a prison. Innocent tourists feared for the safety of their children when passing by. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but not by much.

"Ugh," I groaned, "do I have to?"

"Yup." He flashed me a grin. "I'll see you around three."

I hopped out of the car, jogging into the building so I wouldn't be late. Mr. Codey would give me a detention for sure this time. Jerk.

School passed in a boring blur, as usual. And as usual, Quil was waiting for me outside. For all his jokes, he really was a dependable guy. I slid into the jeep and watched him bob his head along to the music. I made the mistake of rolling my eyes. This caused him to start singing the lyrics of the rock song as loudly as possible. Right there in front of my school.

"Quil!" I squealed at him, "Stop it!"

He ignored me, getting into a rhythm now. Oh my god… he was playing the air guitar. I would never live this down.

"Let's get out of here!"

Quil chuckled while pealing out of the school lot. "How was school today?"

"Boring. And I got a C on my math test. I'm actually surprised I didn't fail it," I admitted.

"Claire," he said disapprovingly. I know Quil has never been to college, so I don't get why he's always so ornery about my grades. Who cares?

"C'mon Quil, skip the lecture. What are we gonna do today?" I really needed to get his mind of my pathetic grade point average before he suggested tutoring me again. The one time he tried it had worked out great- not. Quil's even more pathetic at geometry than I am.

"Hmm," he mused, turning to wink at me, "I think Emily just might be doing something fun over at her place tonight. Should we check it out?"

"Sounds like a party," I said sarcastically. I was really only pretending to gripe about it. It was incredibly lame to chill with your aunt and her family on a Friday night, but also really fun.

Quil's booming laugh washed over me again. He knew me better than to believe I didn't want to. Quil probably knew me better than anyone.

"It'll be a blast, Claire," he told me, "Embry, Jake and Sam will be there too. Plus, little Harry's getting so big now."

"Okay, okay," I said, "I guess it has been awhile since I saw Harry."

My cousin Harry was nine years old, and every time I saw him he just seemed to get taller. He was named for Harry Clearwater, Leah's dad, who had died when I was a baby.

In a few minutes, we stopped in front of a small, buttery yellow one story on the edge of LaPush. Compared to the other homes on the reservation, this one wasn't really too tiny. But it felt that way when all the guys piled inside of it. Sam, Quil and his friends were all _enormous_. I had even asked Quil once if they all took the same steroids. That just made him snort.

I looked over at Quil, waiting for him to unlock the doors so I could get out. I caught him staring at me…again. Quil did that sometimes, he would just stare at my face like he was spacing out or something. Like I said, the boy was weird. A good kind of weird, though.

"Quil?"

He jumped, "Uh, yeah?"

"Are we going to go in or what?" I asked, rolling my eyes at him. I rolled my eyes at him a lot; he was just so goofy. Once in a while, he would tell me I needed to see an optometrist or something.

Quil seemed to realize where we were and unlocked the doors. I clambered out and followed him into the house. Quil had to maneuver carefully through the door, his shoulders were so broad and he was so tall that he could've easily damaged the frame.

"Claire!" Emily called, as soon as we were through the door. I gave her a quick one-armed squeeze.

Sam and Harry acknowledged me vaguely; too busy watching cartoons to really notice me. I smiled- sometimes boys were so comfortingly predictable. Quil went over to join them.

Emily and I chatted and laughed about life while she was making dinner. And when I say making dinner, I mean preparing to feed a village. There were literally about thirty or forty hotdogs there for only six people. Gross.

"Smells good," Sam said, coming over to nuzzle Emily on her cheek. He kissed her scars tenderly. I didn't really know where Emily had gotten her scars from, and I was too shy to ask. They were faded and pink, running from her eye all the way down her face. Like a bear or something had mauled her.

Sam looked at Emily so tenderly as she bustled around the little kitchen. His expression reminded me of something, but I wasn't sure what. I didn't have much time to mull it over, though, because Quil, Harry, Embry and Jake charged into the room.

Twenty minutes and two hot dogs later I was staring at Quil in amazement. He had just put away at least twelve hotdogs, and was reaching for another.

"What?" he said, noticing my revulsion.

"How can you eat that much?"

Embry interrupted us, "Yeah, Quil, Jesus. Give someone else a chance." And with that he swiped the last hotdog from Quil's fingers. Quil blinked for a moment, then snorted.

"So, Claire," Jake said, speaking for the first time. He was kind of a quiet guy, not really making conversation unless forced. "Are you coming tomorrow night?"

"Coming where?"

Sam looked up from tickling Harry and growled a tiny bit. Sam was kind of a big deal around La Push- and no one really seemed to know why. People just did what he said. His reaction piqued my interest.

"Well…" Quil said, looking sheepish for not mentioning it before. "Some of the guys are going down to First Beach for a bonfire. Leah, Emily, and Kim will be there, too."

I sat up straight, excited. I'd never been allowed to go to their parties before. I was always told that I was too young. "Count me in!"

As we left Emily's that night, Sam drew Quil aside. "What are you doing?" he demanded in an authoritative voice, furious for whatever reason.

"Calm down! God, it's not like I'm going to tell her!" Quil defended himself, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Good," was Sam's reply.

Quil followed me into the car after that, sort of shaking a little bit. I was worried about him, but also a little mad. What made him think he could keep something from me?

We were supposed to be best friends; what was Quil hiding?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or any of these characters. I wish I did, but sadly, not the case. This is Stephenie Meyer's little kingdom. Let me know what you think of the story so far!**

**Chapter Two**

I spent most of Saturday thinking about what Quil had said to Sam. I was distracted all throughout my homework, not able to concentrate. That would be great on Monday. Oh well.

Quil swung by to pick me up around seven. I scribbled a note for my mom, but I would probably be home before she was. She rarely got home from work before eleven.

"Hey, Claire-bear," he greeted me.

I made a face at him. "I thought we agreed that that name was officially retired? I am _not_ a kid anymore, Quil."

For some reason, Quil mumbled, "No, you're not," in a super serious voice. He must be in one of his moods.

Sometimes Quil would get sort of moody and distant from me. It was usually whenever we were having loads of fun too- he was great with timing. Like three weeks ago when we'd gone to get some pizza at our usual place. All of a sudden, something had set him off. He's started to shake, and then we had to leave really fast. I didn't see him for two or three days after that happened.

"Anyway," I said brightly, trying to lift his mood, "what are we gonna get up to tonight? Anything crazy?"

Quil snorted, "With Sam there? _Puh_lease."

He was right. Sam was pretty uptight, especially around me.

He continued, "On bonfire nights we just eat and talk and… tell stories."

I nodded my head, "That sounds fun. So what did you do all day today?"

"Oh, you know, a little of this, a little of that," he said vaguely.

I frowned. Quil never gave me a straight answer about these kinds of things. We spent the rest of the five-minute ride down to First Beach in comfortable silence. I was irritated with him, but Quil and I were never awkward. We knew each other too well for that; Quil and I just went together like peanut butter and jelly.

"Kim!" I squealed as soon as Quil had parked the jeep. I ran to her, but could only give her half of a hug because, as usual, Jared was glued to her side. They'd been married for as long as I could remember, but Jared still looked at her like they were newlyweds.

"Claire! How are you sweetie? I haven't seen you in ages," she gushed, motioning for me to spin around so she could get a better look at me, "you look so grown up now!"

I didn't know why, but for some reason Sam's eyes flickered up to us. He scowled in Kim's general direction before turning back to the fire and adding more logs.

Kim, Emily, Leah and I found spots near the fire and sat down in the sand, gossiping like old women. Despite our age differences, they were some of the best friends I had. People always told me I was mature for my years, and I think that's what made it hard for me to relate to people my own age. I just fit better with Quil, Kim, Leah and Emily.

After the fire was roaring happily, the guys joined us. Quil sat down on my left side, handing me a stick to roast marshmallows with. It was gorgeous, just sitting here eating s'mores. The sun was only just starting to dip behind the horizon, and its last rays glittered and danced across the water.

The breeze off the ocean was cool, so I reached for my jacket, shivering a little.

"Are you cold?" Quil asked, concerned. Like I said, he worried too much.

"A little," I admitted.

Before I could say anything, Quil pulled me in close to him, and wrapped his arm around me. Sam frowned at Quil, but didn't say anything.

At first I felt shocked, because this was not Quil's usual behavior. I relaxed after a minute though; Quil was so warm. I looked up at him, and he was staring back at me. For some reason, he wore a tortured expression. I was about to ask him why he looked like that, and would he please stop staring, when Billy Black cleared his throat.

I'd been confused to see Billy here at first, because he so rarely left his house. But Jacob had carefully maneuvered his wheelchair through the sand so that his father was comfortable. Billy had long black that he kept in a long ponytail down his back. His skin was worn and soft like brown leather, and his black eyes were sunken into folds of skin. Billy was getting on in years, but was still very much respected in LaPush.

"The Quileutes are a proud and honorable people," Billy began in his deep rumbling voice, "our traditions are ancient and sacred…"

I leaned back into Quil's side and lay comfortably, just listening to the familiar legends about how our tribe came to be, spirit warriors, vampires, and even werewolves. It was fun to hear Billy tell these stories, and he had the perfect voice for it. I noted that Billy sounded grave and serious, like he believed in what he was saying. He really was a good storyteller.

After Billy's voice had faded into silence, all of us just sat and stared into the flames, not saying anything. Sam was holding onto Emily just as Jared was embracing Kim. Besides Billy, Jacob, Leah and Embry were the only ones who sat alone.

Quil's arms felt very safe. He was at least three times my size, and so strong. I noticed that Quil had a woody scent. It mingled pleasantly with the smoke clinging to his clothes, and reminded me of forests and earth. I must have drifted off to sleep in Quil's warm arms, because the next thing I knew, he was lowering me carefully into my bed.

"Quil?" I asked, confused and sleepy.

"Shh," he murmured, "go back to sleep Claire."

I closed my eyes gratefully, wanting nothing more than to lapse back into unconsciousness. I thought I felt Quil kiss my hair before he gently closed the door, but I wasn't sure. I was already half way into a dream about werewolves and vampires. Oddly enough, Quil was in it.

In my nightmare, Quil and I were in an odd clearing surrounded by trees. About two yards away from us stood the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Somehow, I recognized her as the woman from Billy's stories: a vampire. I gasped and looked around for Quil, wanting to tell him to run. But instead of Quil standing next to me, there was a huge, dark brown werewolf. It stood seven or eight feet tall, and had its hackles raised menacingly. Oddly enough, I wasn't afraid of it. The werewolf faced the vampire and they began to circle each other, preparing for a fight. The beautiful vampire flew at him, trying to get her hands around his neck. That was when I snapped back into consciousness, screaming. After I few shaky minutes, I rolled over and slipped into a deep sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I didn't remember the dream at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: All characters are Stephenie Meyer's. This chapter is a little bit heavier, but hey, Quil is in a heavy situation. Don't worry, next chapter the story will move forward. Reviews are always welcome :**

**Chapter Three**

Quil's POV

I dropped Claire off at school, keeping a smile plastered to my face. She needed to go to school of course, and all her efforts at convincing me otherwise were not helping. I wanted nothing more than for her to stay here with me. Forever.

I watched Claire jog into the high school, and counted the hours until I could see her again. Seven. I tried to ignore the way her hips moved from side to side, knowing that it wasn't right for me to look at her that way. Not yet. Claire was too young.

A low growl in the back of my head told me that I was right. Stupid Sam.

Sometimes, though, it was hard to help thinking about Claire. After all, my world completely revolved around her. How had Jacob put it? Oh yeah, gravity. And it's true; I am pulled to her, and would gladly orbit around her for the rest of my life. Claire is smart, funny, beautiful… and too young.

_Come on_ _Quil,_ I thought. _You've been waiting thirteen years. What's another two or three?_

On the way to work, I tried to convince myself of this. Hopefully, if Claire would have me, I would get to spend the rest of my life with her. Another couple of years wouldn't be so terrible.

I pulled into the parking lot of Jake's auto body shop. A few years ago he had opened up his own repair center, and hired me to work with him. I wasn't complaining, I needed the cash, and it was helpful to have a boss who was sympathetic to your, uh, time restraints. Specifically, the amount of time being a werewolf took. So I was content. But still… Claire deserved so much more. I wanted her to be successful, to go to college.

Claire was incredibly talented; she was a dancer. When you first see Claire, you wouldn't expect for her to be a brilliant ballerina. Not because she isn't slim and graceful, but because she is so bold and quite the opposite of dainty. I laughed to myself, remembering the belching contest she had won the other day. Seeing Claire paint pictures with her body and poetry with her gestures was amazing. If I could, I would send her to Julliard.

As usual, I thought of my Claire the entire afternoon while pulling apart old cars and trying to figure out what was the matter with them. I thought about her as a toddler, and that always made me smile. I would rock her for hours on end, read her books, and sing to her when she cried. Then, I had loved and protected her as vigilantly as any father. When she grew older, I was the big brother in her life. I took her to the zoo and checked for monsters under her bed. Now, we were best friends. We hung out together, and just being with her was enough to make my heart swell with pleasure. I concentrated on our friendship, and tried to not wish for the future.

Finally, finally, it was time to pick her up from school.

"See ya, Jake," I called to him.

He rolled out from underneath a red mustang and rolled his eyes at me. "Later, Quil."

Jake was really good about understanding how much I _needed_ to be with Claire. Like the rest of the pack, he could see my amount of devotion and adoration.

I waited for Claire outside her school, flipping mindlessly through the radio stations to distract myself. As she walked up to the jeep, I thought she looked a bit down, so I decided to cheer her up. I began singing along to the cheesy rock song, and when she looked at me disparagingly, I knew that I had caught her attention. Holding nothing back, I started to rock out on the air guitar.

She laughed and screamed, so I knew she was out of her dejection. We talked as I drove, and she told me about her day. She had gotten a low grade on a math test, but the worst part was that she didn't seem too bothered by it. Why couldn't Claire realize how intelligent she was, how much potential she had?

I sensed that harping on about it would make her unhappy, though, so I checked my frustration. I would do anything to keep Claire from being unhappy.

I pulled up to Emily's house, and turned to ask Claire if she wanted to come to the bonfire tomorrow. Sam hadn't expressly disallowed it… besides I wasn't going to tell her.

I was about to open my mouth, when she turned around to look at me. In that instant, I was struck by her big, dark eyes, the way the lashes fanned gently upward to almost kiss her delicately arched eyebrows. Her nose was a perfect line down to her pink, full lips, and even her long black hair shone in the weakening light of late afternoon. I don't know how long I sat gazing at her with my mouth open before she spoke.

"Quil?"

I snapped quickly back into awareness, "Uh, yeah?"

"Are we going in or what?" Claire asked, rolling her breathtaking eyes in my direction. I smiled, unlocking the doors. Claire rolled her eyes a lot- probably because I tried to make her. I just couldn't help it; she was so adorable when she was annoyed.

For the millionth time in my life, Sam's threats echoed in my brain. _Yeah, yeah,_ I thought at the voice. I wasn't really talking to anyone; Sam wasn't consciously growling in my head. I guess you could say it was my…pack conscience. Sam had laid down an order, and it had to be followed. Or else.

That night I sat next to Claire, completely stuffed. I had eaten twelve hot dogs; she on the other hand, had managed to put away a measly two. Despite her abhorrence of all things girlie, she still looked repulsed that I was able to physically cram that much food in me.

"So, Claire, are you coming tomorrow night?"

My head and Sam's snapped up to look at Jake in unison. Sam had forgotten that there was a bonfire, and he hadn't forbidden it…yet. Claire happily agreed to go and I could practically feel the waves of fury coming off of Sam.

Before I managed to sneak away with Claire, Sam cornered me.

"What are you doing?" He yelled at me. Sam was so protective of Claire. I felt enraged. How did he think I felt about it? I would rather die than do anything to harm her.

"Calm down! God, it's not like I'm going to tell her!"

"Good," was Sam's only reply before storming back into the house.

How dare Sam think he would need to protect her from me, of all people?

I noticed that I was shaking, and managed to check myself a bit before sliding into the driver's side of my jeep. Hopefully she hadn't noticed- again. Last month, Claire and I had been at the pizza joint close to her school when the teenage, acne-faced server had started to flirt with her. Sweet, innocent Claire didn't even realize what he was doing as his piggy eyes roved greedily over her young body. I started to vibrate then, too, and rather than sit there and succumb to what would definitely happen if we stayed, I quickly got Claire out of there. I hoped she didn't remember that little incident; she was starting to reach the age where she would notice everything. That was why it was more important now, than ever, to keep her protected. From me.

I could tell Claire was mad at me when she left. It pained me that I was causing her distress, but it was necessary. I was always very careful never to reveal too much to her, and I knew that it tortured her. Hopefully, one day she would know why I did it all.

All through the next day I felt revolted with myself. Claire would be safer without me, look at Emily! Of course, Sam loved Emily, like I loved Claire, but what if… I didn't allow myself to think it. That was one of the reasons Sam was so protective of his niece of course, but I pushed the doubt out of my mind. It would never happen.

That night started much the same as usual. Of course, having Claire there made it a little different, but not by much. She fit, just like a piece of the puzzle that was our pack family.

We sat around the fire for a while, talking about nothing in particular. I was enjoying Claire's face as she took in the beauty of the beach. Of course, it paled in comparison to her. She was shivering a little, and before I knew what I was doing, I took her in my arms. Claire needed me.

Sam's anger was apparent, both in and outside of my head, but I tried to ignore it. I was just keeping her out of the cold. I looked down at the angel now relaxing into my warmth, and froze. For the first time ever, a brand new emotion ripped through me. At first, I didn't know what it was, but the angry growling in my head told me that it was desire. Claire was growing up, and I finally noticed. She was no longer a little girl…she was a woman. With every breath she took, I became more and more aware of the heat radiating off her small body. Her perfection was crushing; so was the torture. The torture of time. She was too young, and I felt mildly disgusted and ashamed of myself. I needed to be a stronger man to deserve someone so pure. But I couldn't deny that holding Claire felt so right…_Get a grip, man,_ I screamed at myself.

As I attempted to shake off my newfound desire and guilt, I watched carefully all evening while Claire listened to the stories she had already heard many times before. It was obvious she didn't believe any of them. I tried to tell myself that I was relieved, but a part of me most definitely was not. The sooner she knew, the sooner… Once again, I attempted to selflessly think of what was best for her.

Claire fell asleep against me, and her even breathing was the sweeter than any music. I carefully gathered her delicate form in my arms and laid her in the back of the jeep.

I sat in the car with my Claire for a while, just watching her sleep peacefully. I could stay here forever, but I knew that I shouldn't. Sam would be waiting for me. Reluctantly, I carried her up to her small green bedroom. I smiled, remembering the summer we had painted it. Claire had said that since she couldn't play in the grass because of her broken arm, the grass would have to come to her.

It was a struggle for me to leave her, even as peaceful as she looked. I tried my best not to break into her sleep, but she must have heard me.

"Quil?" she asked, confused. As always, my name tumbling from her cherubic lips made me take a sharp breath.

"Shh, go back to sleep Claire," I whispered.

I couldn't stop myself from kissing her head and breathing in her intoxicating scent. It was all I could do to steal out her door and into the night.

Shaking more violently than I ever had before, I allowed myself to shatter. I needed to run. The past thirteen years… they were nothing compared to this torment.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Note- Twilight is Stephenie Meyer's.**

**Chapter Four**

Oh my God. Free me from purgatory- whatever my sins, I did not deserve this. High school. Without a doubt, the worst hours of my life were spent inside this building. Teachers droning on and on; hard metal chairs that were too small to be comfortable; mind-numbing work; industrial grey carpeting, wall colors, and mesh-covered windows. Like we really needed reinforced wire windows and doors- who would want to shoot up La Push High school and it's total of two hundred pupils? 

"Claire!" Mrs. Bad-dye-job called, "I said, what is the sine of angle C?"

Oh crap. 

"Um…"

Before I could stutter my way into detention for sucking at life, a smooth, deep voice interrupted my own.

"Eight point four."

Mrs. Bad-dye-job pointed her turned-up nose in the voice's direction. "Thank you, Patrick, but I believe I was asking Claire."

The boy named Patrick turned to wink at me. He was actually pretty cute, with curly brown hair, a tall frame, and hazel eyes. 

"Sorry, Mrs. Wilson, my bad."

Mrs. Bad-dye-job (Sure, I knew her name. But I can't help what she looks like) huffed and returned to her overhead. She obviously was disappointed that she missed out on the chance to torture me.

After class, Patrick appeared next to me as I was walking out the door. 

"Hey," he said.

I smiled at him shyly, "Hi. Thanks for saving me back there."

"Don't mention it. I'm Patrick by the way- I just moved here."

"I'm Claire," I told him. So he was new. That would explain why I'd never seen him before. And also why he was talking to me. I didn't fit in with anybody at school other than my friend Riley. The new boy was way too cute to be hanging out with me.

"So Claire," Patrick began, seeming confident but also a little nervous, "maybe you'd want to show me around today. You know, since I'm new."

He gave me a winning smile that clearly displayed he was used to getting what he wanted. I was a little annoyed by his forwardness, but flattered nonetheless.

"Yeah, sure," I said. "I'm actually on my way to lunch now."

We stopped at our lockers- which happened to be very close, how lucky- and dropped off our math books.

"What a coincidence," he said, holding up a brown bag, "Me too."

As Patrick and I entered the lunchroom, I could practically feel everyone's eyes on us. They were clearly wondering what someone so obviously cool was doing with me.

"Hey, Claire," Riley greeted me as soon as we got close to our table. She had opted for one of her favorite outfits today: a pair of black skinny jeans, chunky gold bracelets, blue flats, and red tee that said 'Friends don't let Friends Vote Republican'. Riley loved to stand out. 

"Riley, this is Patrick. He's new," I explained. I looked down at my own boring outfit- jeans and a hoodie. I could never pull of Riley's look.

Lunch was pretty uneventful, unless you count techno lady's new boom box; techno lady, the lunch lady, was known for listening to techno every day. It was kind of her thing.

Patrick, Riley and I got along really well. I was surprised that we did, actually; in my limited experience, most fifteen-year old boys were immature and annoying. Riley and I detested them, preferring to swoon after actors like Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt.

After a few more incredibly dull classes, Patrick and I walked home from school together. Quil picked me up Mondays through Thursdays, but had to close shop for Jake on Fridays. It turned out that Patrick lived only a couple of blocks away. Not a huge coincidence in a small community like La Push, but still nice.

When we parted ways and said goodbye, I had the distinct impression he wanted to ask me something. But I was probably imagining it. He probably wanted to ask me who the cool kids were so he could go chill with them instead.

I got in the door, slung my backpack to the ground, and rushed to the refrigerator, famished. There was some left over macaroni in there from last night- Hallelujah. I quickly heated it up and turned on the TV. Gilmore Girls reruns. Perfect. They would be over just soon enough for me to flip off the television, open my homework, and pretend to be working when Quil got here. If it looked like I had been studying hard, he would shut up about my grades and just take me to the studio.

As I predicted, Quil showed up fifty minutes later as I frantically flipped open chapter ten in my math book- more trigonometry. Par-tay.

"Hey Claire," Quil called, smiling really big. He was always in a good mood after work was over. Quil always told me he was just happy to see me, but I suspected it was because I wasn't a dirty, greasy car.

"Hi. Right on time! Let's go!"

Quil frowned as I ran up the stairs to grab my dance bag. Hopefully he wouldn't notice my completely blank homework sheet. 

I picked up the green bag Quil had gotten me for my birthday, checked to make sure my slippers, leg warmers, tights and leotard were in there, and headed back downstairs. 

Quil's frown had deepened when I reached the kitchen table to pull the legwarmers on. Dang. He was looking at my homework. Before he could start lecturing me about "What are you going to do with your life, Claire? You are so talented!" I practically shoved him out the front door. As big as he was, that was not easy to do- my dance teacher better be impressed with my dedication to get to practice.

I talked with Quil on the way to the studio, trying purposefully to keep the conversation off school. Instead, we chatted about his work and March Madness. Shocking, I know, I'm supposed to be a ballerina. But sports are kind of my thing. And March Madness was Quil's and my thing. Every year since I can remember we've spent a good part of March parked in front of the TV watching ESPN and yelling at the guys on the court. Quil, Jake, Embry, Jared, Paul and I all kept brackets every year. I'd won two years in a row now- almost every one was impressed. Paul was just pissed. Last year he had actually refused point blank to pay up, saying I was too young to gamble anyways. Quil gave me Paul's money later, but I'm pretty sure that Quil just ended up paying me himself. Quil was too soft for his own good.

When we got to the studio, I practically vaulted from the jeep and sprinted up the stairs. By the time I started warming up, I noticed Quil sitting down in a corner. I scowled at him, but he just grinned- for some reason, he really liked to watch my ballet practice. I was not a fan of my audience; I suspected he was gathering material to make jokes about. Ballet was just so obviously not Quil's style.

"Quil's here again?" Riley asked, coming up behind me. In true Riley fashion, she was wearing a bright purple leotard with striped legwarmers. And her fingernails were painted black again. Julia, our ballet trainer, was not going to be amused.

"Yeah," I told her, stretching my leg out onto the bar. 

Riley snorted. She understood that Quil was my friend- I didn't tell her he was my best friend because that would hurt her feelings- but she thought it was weird. I sort of agreed, but that was the way things had always been. 

"Why is he around so much? And the way he looks at you sometimes…it's not normal Claire. It's like he's in love with you or something."

After Riley spoke, I started laughing so hard that Julia yelled at me to get back to work. "That's ridiculous, Riley!" I whispered, "Quil's like my brother. He's just protective of me."

Riley looked disbelieving, but we had to drop the subject. Julia wanted us to go through our warm-ups and then work on a few tricky moves. Our performance wasn't for another six months, but it was pretty important; company scouts would be there. I knew that getting a job dancing was a long shot, but it was my dream.

After a couple of hours, practice was finally over. Quil carried my bag out to the truck for me as I hobbled along; I would definitely need to ice my feet again tonight. I managed to limp over to the passenger side door, but there was no way I would make it up to the seat. Quil took one look at me, rolled his eyes, and lifted me in. With one arm.

"Hey!" I yelled, a little shocked. I didn't think Quil was that strong. It was unnatural.

"What?" he said.

I just stared at him as he threw my bag into the back seat, climbed in the driver's side, and started the car. 

"Are you on steroids or something?" I asked. I was joking, but also a little curious.

Quil let out a loud laugh. "It's not my fault if you are exceptionally tiny, Claire."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "I'm only small compared to your freakish size, Quil."

He just kept on laughing at me. The whole way home, I chose to give him the silent treatment. That just made him laugh harder. Thankfully, it was a pretty short ride. Before I could escape the jeep and go soak in an ice bath, Quil leaned over to ruffle my hair. I started to get annoyed- he knew I hated when he did that. I whipped my head around to look at him sharply, causing his hand to move from my hair to my cheek.

"Quil-" I didn't continue. His eyes were deep again, smoldering like black fire. He was staring at me so intensely that I couldn't speak. Also, something was wrong with my cheek. His hands were really hot, but that wasn't it. My cheek was tingling.

After a few prolonged seconds, Quil moved his hand from my face.

"Good night, Claire," he said softly.

I opened the door, stepped out into the cool air, and took several deep breaths. What had happened? Before opening up the front door, I turned back to look at Quil one more time. He was sitting in the car watching me with an unfathomable expression.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: You know the drill… werewolves and characters belong to Stephenie Meyer

**Disclaimer: You know the drill… werewolves and characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. **

**Chapter Five**

Quil's POV

This was my favorite time of day, even though it was technically night. Whenever I was on patrol, I would run around Claire's house to make sure she was okay. I hated being away from her; it gave me a gnawing, empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. 

When my shift was over, I would phase back and climb through her bedroom window. Claire looked so peaceful when she slept. Sam knew I came in her to check on her, of course, and he didn't like it. But he also knew that my only intention was to make sure Claire was safe. 

I would stand quietly near her bed for just a couple of minutes. When Claire slept, her beautiful features became incredibly soft and vulnerable. In her sleep was one of the few times she let her guard down. The only other time she looked truly free was when she danced. Claire was an amazing dancer; her body twisted and spun, creating art with her movements. When she danced, Claire radiated joy and exhilaration. I could sit and watch her for hours and never be bored. And yet, when she was at her most peaceful, I was always forcibly reminded of just how young she was. Yesterday had been a mistake- Claire was not allowed to know that I loved her. Not in that way, at least. Not yet.

I picked up the picture frame on the bedside table. I smiled at it, remembering exactly when this picture was taken. Claire had been twelve, and I was… the exact same. She and I had tried to cook dinner for her mom for Mother's day, but ended up making a complete mess of the kitchen. Her mother had been a little irritated, but couldn't help but laugh when she saw us both completely coated in flour. She had snapped the picture just as Claire threw another handful of white power into my face. We ended up ordering Chinese that night.

Replacing the photograph, I headed back out the window. As soon as I left, the gnawing sensation in my stomach returned. I reminded myself that Claire would be over later that day.

"Jeez, Quil," Embry called from the couch. "Stop pacing. You're going to wear a hole in the floor."

Jared just laughed. He knew what I was feeling- the anxiety that built up just being away from her, and the anticipation for her arrival. I knew that he must have been feeling it too; Kim was at work. 

There was a soft knock on the door. I let out an audible sigh of relief, vaulted over the ratty old couch that Jake, Embry and Jared were piled on, and went to open the door.

As usual, I had to blink once or twice before being able to form a coherent thought. Claire stunned me just as much as the first time I ever saw her.

"Hey, Quil."

"Hi."

"Hey guys," she called to the others on the couch. "Did the game start yet?"

"No," Embry answered her, "you made it on time."

Claire shrugged off her coat and slung it over the hook next to the door. She grabbed a slice of pizza from the table and then sank down onto the floor in front of the couch. I sat next to her, wondering what she was thinking. Did she think anything weird of last night?

Sometime while I was pondering this, the game started. It was Drake against Western Kentucky. Claire and the guys cheered for Kentucky and booed Drake, getting more and more exuberant as the game went on. I was rooting for Drake, but not very well; if Claire's team lost, she would be sad. And that was the very last thing I would ever want. 

Sometimes I would catch myself staring at Claire- she was so into the game. Her competitive spirit was one of the many things I loved about her. I loved the fierce look in her eyes, the way her eyebrows joined together when a bad call was made, or how she would shake out her long, dark, hair when she cheered. 

Once when I was gazing at her open-mouthed, Embry hit me on the back of the head, smirking. Thankfully, Claire didn't notice.

I noticed Claire's face looked extremely tense, and glancing at the TV, I saw why. Drake was up by one point with six seconds left on the clock. The ball was in WKU's possession. The point dribbled up the floor at a break neck pace, passed out to a wing, who launched it in the direction of the shooting guard, who managed to fling it towards the basket with three guys in his face from way beyond the three-point line.

"Oh My God!" Claire screamed. 

"Holy crap!" 

The tiny guard had somehow managed to sink the ball, just as the buzzer went off. WKU beat Drake, 101 to 99 at the last second. 

"Yeah!" Claire and the guys were ecstatic. Everyone was except for me. Drake had been in my bracket; I was not expecting this upset. It looked like I was going to lose this year- again. I was annoyed, but I couldn't resist smiling at the triumphant look on her face. 

After a few minutes of excited chatter, Jared's stomach let lose a massive grumble. I laughed at him, but went over to the fridge to start defrosting the box of taquitos I had in there. 

The guys and Claire all sat down around the kitchen table, still discussing the basketball game. The taquitos were devoured within minutes, though it would barely hold us until dinner. I looked at Claire, and her perfect nose was scrunched up in disgust. 

"So, Claire," Embry said, "what's new with you?"

"Not a lot. I'm still practicing for my recital this fall."

I looked at Claire proudly. "She's been working really hard," I told the guys, "and her dance is really amazing."

Claire blushed slightly but punched me lightly on the shoulder. "Shut up, Quil." 

For some reason, it embarrassed her when I talked about how talented she was. I couldn't help it; I wanted the whole world to appreciate Claire as much as I did.

Jake laughed darkly. He had been pretty quiet the whole day, and I actually wondered why he had come. He was welcome, of course, it was just that he usually preferred to be alone. 

I heard an annoying ringing sound and turned around to see Claire pulling a small cell phone out of her pocket. 

"Hello?" she said into it.

I could hear a faint buzzing on the other end, but even with my sensitive hearing I couldn't distinguish whose voice it was.

"No…yes…okay…bye." Claire mumbled. Her cheeks looked slightly pink as she stowed the phone in her pocket once more. That couldn't have been her mom- why would she be blushing? 

Jared asked the question for me. "Who was that, Claire?"

"Um…" She chewed on her lip a little. "That was my friend, Patrick."

Jared raised his eyebrows, glanced at me, but didn't pursue the subject further. Who the hell was Patrick? Maybe a friend of Riley's? 

"Who's Patrick?" Jacob asked bluntly. 

Claire let out a gust of breath. "He's sort of my boyfriend, I think."

The room was dead silent for a moment. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.

"What?" she asked, annoyed. "Don't get all big-brother protective on me you guys."

Jared and Embry laughed, but it sounded forced. Jacob remained silent, staring at me. I had started to shake, and he was warning me with his eyes that I needed to calm down- now. I knew that I needed to regain control, but I couldn't. Claire was with…some one other than me. 

I stood up from the table abruptly, causing my empty plate to fall to the floor and shatter. Jake stood up, also, positioning himself between Claire and me. Her deep eyes were wide with surprise, and she opened her mouth to say something. I ran to the door, wrenched it open, and disappeared into the night.

I tugged my clothes over my head as I ran, scattering them across the forest. Claire was with someone else. Who was he? My heart felt like it was in a vice, and the pressure was only getting worse. Claire was leading a normal life, and I knew that I should be relieved… she was still too young. But I couldn't be patient, or even happy that she was normal. Claire, my Claire, belonged with me.

Quaking from head to toe, I exploded. 

…………………………………………………………………

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews and encouragement. Let me know what you think of this chapter, I know it was sort of filler-ey but it's important. You'll get a longer chapter next time, and part of it is Claire's POV on what happened…plus more. Oh, by the way, did anyone catch that game on Friday? It was freakin' unbelievable (yeah the game I described was real). **

**Oh by the way, I have some questions and I was hoping someone could tell me. I am relatively new to FanFic, so I was wondering…**

**If I delete stuff in my "Documents" it will still stay in the stories, right?**

**If I update a document, like edit it, will the changes automatically go into my story?**

**What does AU mean?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns everything Twilight.**

**A/N: I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while. I just didn't feel it. I thought I'd update before I went on vacation for a week though, so enjoy!**

**Chapter Six**

The annoying blast of my alarm clock woke me up. Again. I slammed on the snooze button groggily. Incredibly though, I couldn't get back to sleep. I was exhausted, tossing and turning all night, thinking about Quil. I smiled, remembering the time he had caught me pressing the snooze button twelve times one morning. _Wow, Claire,_ he had said sarcastically, _that makes a lot of sense. You hate waking up, so why not do it over and over and over and over…_

Quil. Last night was definitely odd. I mean, he dropped me off everyday, but last night after ballet practice had been…different. Every time I thought of the look in his dark eyes, I had a funny feeling in my chest. It literally felt like a balloon was inflating in there. I had no idea what was up with Quil- one minute he was joking, the next he would get all serious and make cryptic remarks.

Whatever. Thanks to my disturbing thoughts about Quil, I was going to be late. I groaned loudly and attempted to roll out of bed. I did not succeed; I flopped back down on top of the covers uselessly. It was eight a.m. on a Saturday for Christ's sake.

_Bleep! Bleep! Bleep! Bleep! _I seriously contemplated breaking my twelve-time snooze button record but decided against it. I didn't want to be late. I was considerably annoyed with Patrick for forcing me to get up at this ungodly hour, but he had insisted. For some reason, he had asked for "the pleasure of my company" today. And since I had plans with Quil and the guys tonight, Patrick wanted to get an early start.

I could barely keep my eyes open in the shower. I hoped Patrick would be as blind as I was from sleep deprivation, or else he might change his mind about our "outing". I probably looked like death warmed over.

Fifteen minutes later I was wolfing down a granola bar in a most lady-like fashion. Then I furiously rammed a toothbrush with some sticky blue stuff on it into my mouth while simultaneously trying to straighten my hair. I hated to admit it, but I was nervous. It's not every day that the new, attractive, popular kid in school asks you out. I hoped. I still wasn't sure if this was meant to be a date or just hanging out with a friend. But I got 'all dolled up' anyways. Was it a crime to be cute for your awkward-maybe-date-with-a-cute-friend?

I slipped my red converse on just as I heard a car horn outside. I sighed. Apparently, Quil was not the only one of the male species with the annoying habit of laying on the horn. Would it kill them to walk the _entire_ ten paces to the front door, and then laboriously extend a pointer finger to press the doorbell?

"Hey Patrick," I said, sliding into the passenger side of his car. It was a Land Rover- way too nice for LaPush. I tried not to think of him as spoiled, but it was hard when you were sitting in a car that probably cost a hundred grand.

"Wow," I said after he greeted me, "Is this your car?"

"Yeah," he said proudly. "My Dad bought it for my seventeenth birthday last week."

"Huh." I didn't know what to say. Seventeen? I prayed that he didn't know I was only fifteen.

Patrick chuckled and said, "But I think it was also a bribe to get me to move down here without a fight. Although I admit, there are other perks."

My heartbeat picked up a little bit. Other perks? He was probably talking about something else. Why would he be interested in me? He was a year and a half older, a junior, and I was still a sophomore. The only reason I had met him in the first place was because he failed math last year and had to retake the sophomore level.

When I stopped zoning out long enough to listen, I discovered that Patrick was talking to me.

"When are you turning sixteen, Claire?"

"Oh," I blushed. He knew that I was almost two years younger. "In two months."

Patrick winked at me and said, "I can't wait to celebrate it with you."

_He probably just meant as friends,_ I told myself.

Patrick brought the expensive SUV to a stop at First Beach of all places. It was weird to be here with someone other than Quil.

"I don't have a suit," I protested.

Patrick laughed. "It's a little cool to be swimming yet, I thought we could have a picnic."

"For breakfast?"

He grinned broadly. "Sure, why not?"

Well, why not? This was fun; it was something spontaneous for once in my life.

Patrick really had thought of everything. We spent the morning on a beach blanket next to the ocean, talking and laughing while nibbling on some breakfast. I'd giggled when I'd seen Patrick's version of "making breakfast". He'd put cereal boxes into a basket with a couple of water bottles and some packaged pop tarts. I wasn't complaining though, it was the most enjoyable breakfast I'd had in a long time.

I didn't realize how long we had been there until I looked up and noticed that the soon hung close to the horizon. It must be late afternoon.

"Wow, it's getting late," I remarked.

Patrick just nodded, making a few of his adorable curls spill across his forehead. He was staring out at the sea pensively. After a few moments he turned to look at me seriously.

"I really like you, Claire." I was shocked. And beneath that I was happy.

"I like you, too," I blurted out. Patrick was so cool and funny and cute. What's not to like, right?

Patrick slid closer to me on the blanket and put one hand on my face. I knew what was going to happen before it did, and for some reason, Quil's face appeared in my head. His hand on my cheek felt so different than Patrick's; my cheek had tingled at Quil's touch. I tried to dispel the stray thought from my head and focus on Patrick's lips coming closer and closer.

Technically this was my first real kiss. I didn't think the eighth grade dare should count. Patrick's lips were soft and gentle, and they felt nice moving with mine. It wasn't like the movies, there were no fireworks, and I wasn't swept off my feet. But still, I didn't mind when Patrick made the kiss deeper.

Patrick's tongue pushed slightly against my bottom lip, asking for permission. I gave it without thinking- I was just trying to make it seem like I knew what I was doing. His tongue explored my mouth, and he took the liberty of exploring my body as well. Large hands slipped beneath the bottom of my tee shirt and rubbed along the bare skin of my stomach. I had no idea what to do. Wasn't this a little faster than it was supposed to happen?

"Patrick?" I managed to choke out, after he moved his mouth to my neck.

"Mmm?" he asked.

"Patrick I need to get home."

He slowly removed his hands from underneath my shirt. They had been closer to my bra than I'd realized. He looked disappointed and…angry? No, no. He was a teenage boy; it was normal for him to be disappointed. Besides, he was a gentleman and stopped when I asked him to.

Patrick and I held hands on the ride home. It was comfortable, but I was a little nervous. What did this make us?

He kissed me once more before I went inside. Just a quick kiss this time, and I was relieved. The last thing I needed was for my Mom finding us sucking face in the driveway.

"Bye," I called to him. He waved to me and smiled. He really was handsome. I was lucky to have him. A ton of girls already had crushes on him.

A couple of hours later I ran the distance to Quil's house. Nothing in LaPush wasn't within walking distance; the reservation was just so tiny.

The game that night was awesome, natch. Quil wasn't even awkward; it seemed like he had completely forgotten about last night. I jumped around when my team won at the final buzzer, screaming my head off. It looked like I might have the winning bracket again this year. Quil tried to look upset about it, but I knew he was happy to see me happy. He spoiled me sometimes.

After the game, everything was going great. It was the guys and I chilling, like always. Embry was asking about my life, and I just told him that I was busy with school and ballet. No way was I going to bring up my very recent love life. Quil would probably do the whole protective-older-brother-figure routine. He always overreacted to everything.

Of course, karma decided to kick my ass. My phone went off, and I looked at the caller ID in a confused way. Hardly anyone called me; Riley's parents didn't believe in cell phones. Neither did she, for that matter. Riley insisted that they were a government invention designed to fry our brains so we would be too stupid to notice the "falling quality" of America. She was born in the wrong decade; Riley would have made a great hippie.

"Hello?" I mumbled nervously. It turned out it was Patrick. I tried very hard not to let on too much for the guys to hear. I gave one-word answers. Apparently, there was a movie out that we just had to go see tomorrow night. I agreed, hoping that I could convince my Mom to let me see the movie on a school night. I just needed to get off the phone as quickly as possible.

Being a nosy boy, Jared started to interrogate me as soon as I hung up.

"Who was that, Claire?"

"Um…" I answered, color creeping onto my cheeks. "That was my friend, Patrick."

_Please, please let them drop it,_ I wished desperately. I was either in for a lecture or incessant teasing. I was too tired to put up with either.

"Who's Patrick?" _Damn you, Jacob Black,_ I thought.

"He's sort of my boyfriend, I think." Wow, that was embarrassing to say. I expected for them to burst out with laughter and start making fun of me right away. At the very least, they would insist upon meeting the poor guy, whereupon they would promptly torture him. Instead of either scenario, no one said anything.

My eyes darted to Quil. For some reason, I was afraid of his reaction. He would never accept that I wasn't a little girl anymore. How annoying.

"What?" I asked them. "Don't get all big-brother protective on me, you guys."

Quil started to shake a little bit. Was he actually that upset? His dark brown eyes seemed to blacken, and his normally carefree face hardened. I prepared to calm him down, and then to tell him off for over reacting. I had opened my mouth to do just that when he ran out of the room.

"Quil!" I yelled after him, but it was too late. He left.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer.**

**A/N: This is the last chapter before I go on vacation- for real this time. I was just on a roll. Review, please!**

**Chapter Seven**

I had not seen Quil for three whole weeks. I didn't try to call him. What did I have to apologize for? I really missed him, though. I needed my best friend. Especially with everything going on.

By everything, I mean everything. I still wasn't sure if it was a bad thing or a good thing. Patrick and I had been officially dating for three weeks, and I supposed I was happy. That bothered me some; shouldn't I _know_ that I was happy?

Anyways, things with Riley were tense, too. She insisted that Patrick was bad for me, but what did she know? I honestly tried to make time for her, but Patrick was sort of time-consuming. Sometimes it felt like he was suffocating me. He was always asking about what I did when I wasn't with him, and he freaked out if he saw me talking to another guy. Some girls thought that type of jealousy was cute, but I didn't.

Right when I'd be about fed up though, he would do something unexpectedly sweet. Like show up on my porch with flowers or take me out for dinner in Port Angeles. Sometimes, it was even nice to have a boyfriend. Patrick held my hand in school, and other girls stared enviously. Deep down, I suspected that this wasn't the way I was supposed to appreciate my boyfriend. Wasn't I supposed to love him? I honestly tried, but I guess that I just needed more time. I worked hard to show myself every good quality Patrick had. I figured that my slow heart would eventually follow my brain.

In spite of all that, I still missed Quil. Having Patrick wasn't the same; we didn't really talk that much, if you know what I mean. Sometimes, it was hard to stop him. He was so much older and more experienced than me. He was always pretty nice about it though, apologizing if he went too far. I always forgave him. How could I not? Patrick was everything a girl could ask for in a boyfriend: sweet, charming, and popular.

My mind stayed on Quil the entire day. It was Saturday, so I didn't have much to do. I was so bored that I even tried to study for a bit. Quil would have been proud. I had given up trying not to miss him last week- it was too much effort. I thought about him when I watched TV, I thought about him when I ate dinner, I thought about him when I got ready for my date tonight. Patrick and I weren't really going out anywhere, but I wanted to look good nonetheless. He was just coming over for a few hours to watch a movie tonight. Nice and low-key. I hadn't even bothered to tell my Mom. She liked Patrick, but was always harping on about our "significant" age difference.

So at seven 'o'clock the doorbell rang. I ran down the stairs to answer it, my half-wet hair flying behind me.

"Hi," I greeted him. Patrick flashed me his pearly whites and gave me a chaste kiss. He wore khaki shorts and a light blue polo that made his vivid eyes even more prominent.

"Here," he said, handing me a flat rectangular box. "I brought a movie. It's called Superbad."

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of that one," I said coolly. I didn't mention that I hadn't been allowed to see it. One day Patrick might realize he was dating a fifteen-year-old loser.

Superbad was incredibly stupid. I shouldn't have been surprised; it was right there in the title. Super bad. The entire film was about two lame guys trying to get into girls' pants- any girl. Basically, I was grossed out and offended by almost every single joke. Did guys actually think like that?

Patrick seemed to be enjoying himself, though. He laughed enormously through the entire movie, and by the end was actually in tears.

"Did you like it?" He asked me as the credits began to roll. I looked away from the colorful illustrations now filling the screen.

I giggled. "Not really. It was kind of stupid."

Patrick feigned insult. "What? That movie is a theatrical masterpiece. You obviously have no taste."

I laughed again. Patrick could be so funny sometimes.

"Well, I guess I don't," I played along. "How shameful. What are we going to do about this?"

Patrick looked mischievous as he replied, "I guess we'll just have to teach you a lesson!"

He started to tickle me relentlessly. Pretty soon I was gasping and desperate for air.

"Say Superbad is the best movie ever!" He told me. I could barely hear him for all the shrieking I was doing.

"Superbad is the best movie ever," I choked out. He chuckled once and kissed my hair. He didn't move away though. During the tickle-fight, we had managed to fall on the floor, and he had landed almost on top of me.

While my breathing slowed, Patrick began to kiss me. I didn't protest; I was used to this by now. I even thought that my kissing technique was improving drastically.

Patrick kissed me for a few minutes before trying to take it further, as he did almost every night. And like almost every night, I let it go on for a few minutes. Patrick's eager hands worked their way up my back and towards my bra, unhooking it expertly. I gasped when his thumb found the edge of my breast. His hot breath fell rapidly against my cheek, making goose bumps appear on my skin. I shivered. Not from excitement, but from nervousness. This was farther than I'd ever let him go before.

"Patrick," I whispered. Usually that was all it took for him to pull away and pout.

"Patrick," I repeated, when he still didn't stop. I tried to shove against his muscled chest, but he was too strong, and he dwarfed me.

I tried to speak again, but he jammed his tongue roughly down my throat. I began to panic; Patrick had never been like this before.

"Come on, Claire," he panted in my ear. "You've kept me waiting long enough."

"Please," I croaked, realizing his intention.

Patrick's tongue left my mouth and made its way along my neck, where he nibbled at my skin. He sucked at a spot there, pulling my skin against his teeth until it hurt really badly. I was literally trapped. My hands were pinned above my body with just one of his strong arms, and he was using his other to push my top up further.

_Oh shit,_ I kept thinking. I knew that no one was around. My Mom was working late again.

By now my shirt had been roughly pushed up around my armpits, my breasts hanging freely below. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, rolling into my hair. I wanted to die. Patrick greedily pressed against my naked body, tearing his shirt off of himself. There was absolutely nothing I could do. He was acting crazy, not at all like the charming boy every one loved. He was a monster.

"Please," I tried again.

Patrick just ignored me. His previously angelic face was a mixture of anger and determination. Harsh fingers found the waistband of my jeans and tore at the flimsy button. I tried to bring my knees up and get him away from me, but he just ground his hips into me even more tightly. My fly was quickly unzipped, and he started to tug at my jeans. I was sobbing freely now, bucking and twisting beneath him. When I felt something against the thin cotton of my underwear, I screamed. I knew it was useless, but it was a reflex.

Patrick covered my mouth with his own, almost choking me with his tongue for the second time. I wondered nauseously how many times he had done this. How many other girls had he hurt?

I closed my eyes at that point. I just wanted it to be over.

My eyes flew open in shock when Patrick's sweaty body suddenly disappeared from on top of my own. He had been thrown across the room. Literally. A huge, muscular, dark man was standing over him, quaking with terrible rage.

Quil.

Quil pummeled Patrick with his fists, slamming him repeatedly into the wall.

"Don't. You. Ever. Come. Near. Her. Again!" Quil punctuated each word with a blow. Blood ran from Patrick's mouth and he looked close to unconsciousness. I would have felt sorry for anybody else, but I was too numb. I watched in shock as Quil threw open the door and flung him out into the yard. I was too dazed to even wonder how Quil had known to come help me.

Quil closed the front door so violently that it ricocheted back from the frame. He took a deep breath and tried again, clicking the deadbolt into place. Slowly, he turned to face me. His hands shook slightly, but he seemed to be regaining his control.

"Oh, Claire," he said. His voice broke on my name and I realized he was crying.

I was crying also. I just lay there on the floor, half naked and ashamed. What had happened? How could I be so stupid? Quil came over and brought me the blanket from the couch. He wrapped me up in it carefully and then picked me up effortlessly. He remained silent, taking me upstairs to my room.

He put me on the bed and covered me with more blankets, kneeling beside me. He held onto my hand, but still he did not speak. He just stared at me. The pain had not left his eyes, and a few tears dripped from them. I felt bad; Quil shouldn't have to suffer with me. I felt ill, thinking of what had just happened. What had just almost happened. I was so thankful to Quil, but I couldn't find the words to tell him. I didn't deserve for him to be so nice after what happened all those weeks ago. Hopefully, he knew how grateful I was.

I couldn't get warm. I was shaking and my teeth were chattering. It was almost summer, but I felt like it was the dead of winter. I trembled violently beneath my comforter, unable to drift into sleep. I was exhausted all of a sudden.

Wordlessly, Quil stood up. I was terrified he was going to leave. What if Patrick came back?

"Don't leave," I plead. "Please don't leave me alone."

He looked at me sadly and squeezed the hand that was still in his own. Quil climbed onto the bed with me. He wrapped me, blankets and all, in his tree-trunk like arms. I calmed as he held me close to his warm body. Slowly, I stopped shivering.

"Claire," he whispered over and over again, "I'm so sorry. So sorry."

I couldn't figure out why he kept apologizing, but I was too tired to ask. My eyelids closed and I slipped into unconsciousness.

Surprisingly, I did not have any nightmares. With Quil holding me, I felt safe. He was there to protect me. The thought warmed my heart. Quil Ateara was my protector.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer

**Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer.**

**A/N: My vacation was great, thanks for being patient, and thanks for all the reviews! Sorry, I meant to post this Sunday. But my Internet is crap.**

**Chapter Eight**

I was hot. Literally, warm. I looked around me, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. I found that two huge, sweltering arms were holding me close to an even more muscular body. It was Quil- and he was looking at me with an unfamiliar kind of pain in his deep eyes.

Then I remembered. My clothes being ripped off. My arms being held down. My hair drenched in my own tears.

I also remembered how Quil had saved me. Somehow… How had he been there?

"Quil?" My voice was raspy and low, so I cleared my throat. I realized that it was sore from crying.

"Claire," he responded, still scrutinizing my face like a building inspector looking for signs of damage. I wanted to tell him that he could stop looking- 'I was almost raped' was not scrawled across my forehead anywhere.

I was almost raped. I'd read articles in the teen magazines I'd bought of course, telling horror stories. I always thought that it was sad, but in most cases I thought the girl had been stupid. I also thought that it would never happen to me. A sob ripped from my chest. I tried to calm myself, focusing on the _almost_ part. It didn't happen. Quil had saved me.

"How did you know?"

He seemed to hesitate for a minute, biting his bottom lip. "I can't tell you."

What the hell kind of an answer was that? And I'd heard it before. I remembered Quil shouting at Sam: _It's not like I'm going to tell her._

"Does this have something to do with Sam?"

He looked startled. "What?"

"The thing you're not allowed to tell me. It's because of Sam, right?"

Quil was definitely taken aback by how much I knew, but he sighed. "Yes."

"So you're not allowed to tell me. But you… want to tell me?" I asked him hopefully.

"Yes and no."

"Why no?"

Quil's face filled with sadness. "Maybe it's something… that will scare you away. Claire, maybe you don't want to know."

"You can trust me. I'm not going anywhere."

"I still can't tell you."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When can you tell me?" I said, getting exasperated with him. Duh.

"Someday."

"Well thanks for being so specific. I'll mark it on my calendar," I said sarcastically. "I thought I was supposed to be your best friend."

Then I thought about the way I had been treating him lately, putting that jackass Patrick before him. "I'm sorry," I told him, feeling awful.

"For what?"

"For being such a crappy friend lately."

He kissed my forehead briefly. I noted that his lips burned my skin where they touched, but not in a bad way. It felt very, very good. "I'm the one that should be sorry, Claire."

I waited for the explanation. This conversation was becoming so confusing. One big tangled web of regrets.

His lips brushed against my hair as he spoke. "I was a jerk about Patrick at first, you deserve a normal life. Even if he weren't a monster, I would have hated him. And if I had been there earlier…" The pain was back in his eyes. "I would rather die than let anything happen to you, Claire. It kills me to know that I failed."

"It's not your fault," I whispered to him. "Shit happens. And I was an idiot. I really thought he was okay."

"I know," he whispered back. "And you're not an idiot."

I laughed humorlessly. "Right."

"You're not." He sounded earnest. "You are anything but stupid, Claire. You're bright and funny and charming and beautiful-" He cut off suddenly, red rising in his cheeks. I had no idea what to do with that.

"Why did you stop? By all means, keep going," I joked lightly, to diffuse the awkward situation.

It worked- he laughed. "I just mean that you deserve better than him."

"And how do you define better?"

"Someone who respects you, and loves you with everything that they have." His eyes were intense, burning into mine. What was the matter with me? Quil was just being a friend, looking out for me. There was no way.

I coughed nervously. "Sounds like you've been watching a few too many chick-flicks."

"Haha," he said sardonically. "I was trying to be serious."

"Yeah, well, it didn't work. You're never serious- I didn't buy it."

We were quiet for a minute, watching the birds that were playing on the tree outside of my window. He stared at them fondly- I glared. The stupid animals woke me up early every morning with their incessant screeching. It was a shame that there was no such thing as bird poison- like rat poison- they were really just rodents with wings.

"Claire, have you ever thought about the future?" he asked seriously. Well that was random.

"What?" I could not keep up with him this morning. "Which future? In general, or just mine?"

"Yours."

"Umm… well I know what I don't want."

He raised one eyebrow. "What do you not want?"

"I don't want to be unhappy. I don't want to end up like my mother. I don't want to be alone. I don't want there to be a nuclear war that will destroy the planet. I don't want to fail my driver's test. I don't want my school team to suck this year. I don't want to end up working at a gas station. I don't want to never find who I was meant to be with."

Quil blinked. "That's, um… What do you mean, you're worried about finding who you're meant to be with?"

"Have you ever thought about it? I mean, according to a lot of people, there's someone who you're destined to be with. A soul mate, or whatever. There are six billion people on this planet- how are you supposed to find them? What if I never do? It bothers me. Why have soul mates if they can't be found?"

He stared at me in amazement after my rant, and then burst out laughing. Quil chortled for at least a minute and half. "Don't worry about it," he told me, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "And what do you mean, you don't want to end up like your mother? She does the best she can, and she loves you very much."

"I know. I meant that I don't want to end up like her because she's not happy. She's not unhappy, but she's not happy. There's a difference, you know? And I don't want to be alone."

"You won't be."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me."

I don't know why he was being so solemn. How could he know anything about my future? Yet, I believed him. "Okay," I whispered, then cleared my throat. "What about you? What do you want?"

"Hmm…" he pondered, stroking his chin for dramatic effect. "Well, I definitely don't want a nuclear war either."

I stuck my tongue out. "Be serious."

"I want you to be happy."

I rolled my eyes. "Gee, thanks. Anything for yourself?"

"No."

"No?"

"That's it."

I didn't know what to say to that. After a while I just said the only thing I could think of. "I want you to be happy, too."

In the seriousness of our conversation, we had been gravitating towards each other. He had already been holding me in his vast arms, so I realized that our faces were suddenly very, very close, our noses almost touching.

"Are you happy right now?" His warm breath tickled my face.

"Yes," I breathed, trembling slightly. Was this happening?

"Then I'm happy, too."

His smoldering lips met mine gently, covering them lightly for a moment. Something inside my heart swelled in that moment, and I found that what I'd said was true- I was happy. I parted my lips, and reached up to put one hand on the back of his neck. My pulse was thudding in my ears, and I forgot how to breathe.

Quil's big hands were on my back, pressed against my cotton shirt. I thought about how desperately I wanted them on my skin. I was very aware that he wasn't wearing a shirt, and I put my other hand on the brown skin of his chest. His heart thumped under my fingers, working just as hard as mine.

Quil made a rumbling sound in his chest, and pulled away. I opened my eyes unwillingly, and he slowly removed my hand from the back of his head.

"We can't Claire," he told me. Again with the rules.

"You can't or you don't want to?" I challenged him. Oh god, please just be that he can't. If he didn't want to…

"I can't."

"You said you wanted to make me happy. I'm happiest with you."

The corners of his mouth lifted up. "Me, too. But I still can't."

I exhaled. "I know."

He pulled me against his chest for a brief moment and whispered something into my hair. I thought it sounded like "I love you", but I couldn't be sure. And I didn't get a chance to ask.

Quil climbed off of my bed, being careful not to make me topple onto the floor with his sudden movement. Then he was gone.

What in the world? I sat up unsteadily, shrugging out of the tangled mass of blankets ensnaring me. Had that even just happened? Was it possible that I'd hallucinated it all?

I looked at myself in the mirror across from where I was sitting. I looked mostly the same, but something was different. My face was flushed with heat. His warmth. Maybe I didn't dream it all.

What did that mean then? Quil had always been like my big brother, a funny friend. And he was older. Like, twenty-five or something ridiculous like that. Maybe even closer to thirty. That's at least ten years.

But he said he loved me. Was it possible? Did Quil Ateara, tall, handsome, older, Quil Ateara love me? He did say he wanted to see me happy. _But_, I reasoned with myself,_ he could just mean as a friend. A friend would want to see you happy. _

I wasn't even sure that Quil had said "I love you." He probably said "My left shoe". Perhaps he was missing that, too, along with his shirt.

Pacing around my room, I carried the old photo of Quil and me around, staring at it. I kept it next to my bed because it made me grin- Quil had been laughing, his brown eyes crinkled with humor. My little, fat-cheeked face was looking up at him, also giggling madly.

I realized for the first time that Quil didn't look a day older now than in this picture. Odd. Was that what he couldn't tell me? That he got botox? I snickered out loud, and then stopped abruptly. It was something more. He would never keep something from me without a reason. And I would have to discover his secret anyways; I had a right to know.

I had a right to know because I loved him. Wait, I _loved _him? Like he might love me? Quil also might just love me as a friend, but then what was that kiss for? It had been so passionate, for me at least. Way more meaningful than with Patrick. With him, I had just been wondering what to do with my tongue. But with Quil… I had been wondering how to keep breathing.

If Quil meant what he said, that he couldn't, not that he didn't want to, then maybe he loved me. And maybe there was a way that we could be together. Fifteen minutes ago, I had never even considered it. But now, everything was different. I wanted to spend every minute with his lips pressed to mine, breathing in his woodsy scent.

If whatever his secret was the only thing between us, then I could handle it. Age, society, reason be damned.

I was in love with Quil. And I _would_ find out his secret.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

**Chapter Nine**

Quil's POV

It was difficult for me to get out of bed anymore. Being without Claire for three weeks was like being without air, or food; I didn't have any energy or desire to live. The worst part was knowing that it was all my fault. I had overreacted to something I had known would happen all along.

_Claire deserves a normal high school experience,_ Sam had told me. _You need to let her figure out who she is away from you. _

So I didn't go back to her the morning after our big fight. I told myself over and over again that it was best I stay away. If Claire's…friend was part of a high school experience, then I couldn't be there, too. That was asking too much of my self-control. Just one look at that lucky snob was enough to turn my stomach. He was so fortunate to have Claire, and he probably didn't even appreciate it. No one but me would ever really appreciate her fully.

I pressed my palms to my eyes, sitting up against my pillows, seeing stars. I tried to push the rich boy's image out of my head, and didn't manage to do it. Just thinking about him made me want to go back to sleep before I'd even left my room.

However, a knock on the door forced me out of bed.

"Quil!" Embry yelled, pounding against the cheap "maple-ish" door.

I stumbled to answer it, swearing loudly. "What, Embry? And don't hit the door so hard- you'll break it."

"Sorry." He didn't look it. Embry was standing there, grinning like usual, bouncing with energy. "But you need to get out of here, man. I'm serious, this isn't good for you."

Scowling, I told him, "No can do. I'm running shifts for Sam tonight."

Embry cocked his head to the side, looking at me shrewdly. "Quil, you don't have to work for another four hours."

"Uh, I'm helping Jake out at the auto shop until then."

"It's closed on Sundays."

Crap. What day was it again? I sighed, staring up at the pop corned ceiling. Resigning myself to my fate, I looked at Embry once again. He was still smiling, carefree.

"What's the plan for today then, Embry?"

"Excellent! There's a new movie out- 21. It looks so cool!"

I rolled my eyes. "Let me guess, you want me to drive?" Embry's car had been impounded a few months back, so now he pestered everyone in the pack for rides constantly.

"Yup," he said, not even looking the slightest bit sheepish. Embry could come across as arrogant, but he was just really, really honest- he didn't hide anything from anyone. That kind of confidence could come across the wrong way sometimes.

But rather than wipe the happy look off of his face, I reached into my sweatpants pocket, jingling the keys to be sure they were still there.

"Ready?"

"Are you going to wear that? You look like hell."

"Thanks," I told him with finality, closing the subject. Who cared if I wore what I slept in? I had nobody to impress.

The movie was okay. I didn't really watch it- I mostly thought about Claire. Had she seen this movie? Had she gone with him?

I continued to think about Claire while driving home, while dropping an annoyed Embry at his house, and on patrol that night. It was a good thing that I was on duty alone tonight, otherwise I probably would've gotten yelled at. When one member of the pack was lovesick, we all felt it.

Nothing exciting happened on duty. Ever since the Cullens had left, there had been hardly any vampire activity. There was the occasional "visitor" but nothing too exciting. Sam still insisted we keep active, though.

At the end of my shift, I ran near Claire's house. It wasn't late, but I still wanted to check in before I went home. Even though she wasn't speaking with me, I had to make sure she was okay. It was too early for her to be in bed, so I just phased, put on my sweatpants, and wandered closer to the house. It sat near the forest that encircled La Push, so I was able to look at the little house unnoticed. The house where Claire lived.

I saw an expensive looking car in the driveway. I was sure that it was Patrick's…and I also knew for a fact that Claire's mom wasn't home. I tried to swallow the anger that had risen in my throat. _Claire deserves a normal life_ rang in my ears. Damn it. I was about to walk away when I heard it. The single most gut-wrenching sound I'd ever heard. A short, panicked scream, and then dead silence. Claire.

I sprinted toward the house, not thinking of anything but my Claire. If something had happened to her…

I slammed open the flimsy front door, probably damaging the hinges. I looked around wildly, heart hammering in fear. What if I was too late? I turned towards the living room, and heard muffled noises. I rounded the corner and stepped into the dark room, eyes narrowing to squint for Claire.

Then I saw him. It took everything in me not to phase right there and tear Patrick to shreds. That animal, that bastard, was touching my Claire. And she was crying, her slender arms trying futilely to push him away.

I would kill him. I picked Patrick up, away from my Claire, and slammed him into the wall. I punched him over and over, threatening him to stay away from Claire. If she hadn't been in the room, I think that I might have actually killed him. Nobody hurts Claire.

After getting rid of the vile creature that had somehow managed to trick Claire into believing he was an actual human being, I looked at her. She was scared and disoriented, still on the floor where he had pressed her.

"Oh Claire," I moaned, anguished. Somebody so sweet, pure, and innocent should never be hurt like this.

I grabbed a blanket, feeling a surge of self-hatred as I covered my angel with it.

It was my job to take care of Claire. If I had been more careful, I could have stopped this. I should have been here earlier; I shouldn't have even let Patrick near her. I should have known better. She was only fifteen, for God's sake.

I carried her carefully up the stairs. She was trembling slightly, and she looked so fragile that I thought she might break. I wasn't sure what to do; I couldn't leave her alone, of course. I decided to wait for her mother downstairs; Claire needed to sleep.

"Don't leave." Claire's voice was low and broken. "Please don't leave me alone."

The vulnerability in her muted voice squeezed my heart. I couldn't believe that I had ever let my innocent Claire get hurt. I would do anything to comfort her, so I laid down beside her on the bed, wrapping her protectively in my arms.

Her shivers slowly subsided, and her breathing became slower. I just kept whispering the only thing I was feeling in that moment.

"I am so sorry, Claire."

Through the night, I watched her sleep, never once able to drift off myself. Despite the awful situation, I knew that this was a night I never wanted to forget. Just holding Claire in my arms was incredible. Her body fit perfectly with mine- we were truly made for each other. I admired her long, dark hair, and the way it fanned gently over the pillow. For hours I gazed at her sleeping face, doing my best to memorize its perfection.

Sometime in the early morning, Claire began to stir. I didn't know what to do- should I leave? What if Claire didn't want me here, holding her?

Before I could make a decision, Claire mumbled my name. Just the way she formed the word with her lips was enough to make me relive last night's guilt all over again.

Suddenly, her open face crumpled inwards, like she was thinking of something unpleasant. The temporary reprieve of sleep had been broken.

"Claire," I finally replied to her earlier question.

"How did you know?" She asked. I didn't need to ask her what she meant. Last night she had been too dazed to even think of that. I was not pleased that she remembered this morning. I pressed my teeth to my lip, wondering what to say. Sam would never let me tell her, as much as I wanted to. And I was afraid to tell her.

"I can't tell you that."

A long moment of silence. I hoped that she wasn't going to reject me, push me from her room and slam the door on me forever. It had been too hard to get through without Claire for even three weeks.

"Does this have something to do with Sam?" Claire asked pensively.

"What?" How did she know that?

"The thing you're not allowed to tell me. It has something to do with Sam, right?"

"Yes." There was no point in denying it. And it hurt me to lie to her anymore than absolutely necessary.

"So you're not allowed to tell me. But you…want to tell me?"

I didn't know how to answer. Of course I wanted to tell her everything. But what if she hated me for it? No normal fifteen-year-old would take the news that her best friend was a werewolf really well.

"Yes and no."

"Why no?" Claire's chin jutted forward the tiniest bit, and I noticed. Guilt rushed through me, yet again. I was always hurting her.

"Maybe it's something…" I couldn't lie, but I didn't want to hurt her. "That will scare you away Claire. Maybe you don't want to know."

"You can trust me. I'm not going anywhere." Her voice was so sweet and sure. Claire was always so trusting that it broke my heart. I would have to look out for her better. And I still couldn't tell her, as much as I trusted her.

"I still can't tell you."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When can you tell me?" She rolled her large brown eyes, and I felt the vise on around my chest loosen the smallest bit. Claire was starting to heal if she was enough herself to be annoyed at me.

"Someday." Oh God, I wished that day were today. But she was still too young. It frustrated me that no matter how much Claire grew, there were still fourteen years between us.

"Well thanks for being so specific. I'll mark it on my calendar."

I bit back a grin at her remark.

"I thought I was supposed to be your best friend," she added in a petulant tone.

Of course she was my best friend… if that's how you define soul mate. She was absolutely my best friend.

"I'm sorry," Claire said suddenly.

"For what?" If anything I should be sorry. Sorry that I couldn't be good enough for her, sorry I didn't protect her.

"For being such a crappy friend lately." Claire was frowning to herself, and the skin of her forehead was wrinkled with guilt.

I kissed her there for just one second to smooth out the lines. That was as much as I could handle… the feel of her silky skin just might drive me insane. "I'm the one that should be sorry, Claire. I was a jerk about Patrick at first, you deserve a normal life." I shuddered in disgust just think of Patrick's despicable face. "Even if he weren't a monster, I would have hated him."

_Because I wanted to be him_, I almost added. I didn't say it out loud, but it had been a close call. And it was true, as much as I had felt miserable without Claire for almost a month, I had been equally jealous. Just thinking of someone else holding her, touching her, kissing her was enough to make my blood boil. Patrick didn't deserve Claire. No one could- not even me.

"And if I had been there earlier…I would rather die than let anything happen to you, Claire. It kills me to know that I failed." Seeing her on the floor, crying and hopeless, would haunt me until I died.

"It's not your fault," she told me gently. "Shit happens. And I was an idiot. I really though he was okay."

I flinched- partly because someone as good as Claire should never have to acquire the natural cynicism that came with maturity, and partly because of the lie that had just escaped her full lips.

"I know," I told her. I wanted her to stop trying to make me feel better. Of course it was my fault- my mission in life was to make her happy, and I had messed up. "And you're not an idiot."

"Right," Claire muttered sarcastically. How could she not know how beautiful, how special she was?

"You're not," I tried to convince her. "You are anything but stupid, Claire. You're bright and funny and charming and beautiful— " Whoops. She was going to think I was a creep. A twenty-nine-year-old creep.

"Why did you stop? By all means, keep going." I smiled. Claire always knew what to say to make me laugh.

"I just meant that you deserve better than him," I told her honestly.

"And how do you define better?" Claire challenged me, staring directly into my eyes.

"Someone who respects you, and loves you with everything that they have." I wished that I could say _someone like me,_ but I didn't.

Claire made some remark to make light of the suddenly extreme atmosphere, but I didn't like it. Claire needed to know how priceless she was.

"I was trying to be serious."

"Yeah, well, it didn't work. You're never serious- I didn't buy it."

I smiled slightly this time, but stared out the window instead of answering. The tree had been planted when Claire was five or six years old, and I remembered how excited she had been. That tree had been there back when I was her big brother, it was here now that I was her best friend. Would it be there when we were more? Would she ever want to be more?

"Claire, have you thought about the future?" I asked her suddenly, coming out of my musings.

"What? In general, or just mine?" The expression of confusion was utterly adorable. I had the impulse to kiss her perfect nose, like in a cheesy Disney movie.

"Yours," I finally answered.

"Umm…well I know what I don't want."

"What do you not want?" _Please don't let one of those things be me_, I thought, suddenly nervous. If she never wanted to be more, that was bearable, as long as she wanted me in her life.

"I don't want to be unhappy. I don't want to end up like my mother. I don't want to be alone. I don't want there to be a nuclear war that will destroy the planet. I don't want to fail my driver's test. I don't want my school team to suck this year. I don't want to end up working at a gas station. I don't want to never find who I was meant to be with."

Wow. I was stunned once again at Claire's wisdom. Some of what she said hadn't made sense, but it was so profound for a fifteen-year-old. Claire had always been so mature and grown up.

"That's, um… What do you mean, you're worried about finding who you're meant to be with?"

"Have you ever thought about it?" Claire said seriously. "I mean, according to a lot of people, there's someone who you're destined to be with. A soul mate, or whatever. There are six billion people on this planet- how are you supposed to find them? What if I never do? It bothers me. Why have soul mates if they can't be found?"

Claire was so worried about this that I had to laugh. She didn't need to be concerned about sifting through billions to find her soul mate- he was right here.

"Don't worry about it," I tried to reassure her through my chuckles. "And what do you mean, you don't want to end up like your mother? She does the best she can, and she loves you very much."

"I know. I meant that I don't want to end up like her because she's not happy. She's not unhappy, but she's not happy. There's a difference, you know? And I don't want to be alone."

"You won't be." I was stunned at how much thought was behind those words. Like she had been fretting over her future. Claire would never be alone, not if she didn't want to be.

"How do you know?" On some level, it seemed that she was desperate for reassurance.

"Trust me." I wanted to take away her loneliness right now, but for the time being I'd have to settle for friends.

For some reason she believed me. She nodded slightly, and then whispered, "Okay." I was relieved that this was something that I could be absolutely sure about. This promise was good for eternity.

"What about you?" Claire asked me, piercing me through with her serious eyes. "What do you want?"

"Hmm…" I pretended to think while stroking my jaw like a bad actor in a comedy. Her smile was so gorgeous. "Well, I definitely don't want a nuclear war, either."

"Be serious," she admonished me, sticking out her tongue. The gesture was so innocent and childish that it made the horror of last night all the more awful.

"I want you to be happy." It was the truth. When I thought about the future, all I saw was Claire content, smiling.

"Gee, thanks," she said, brushing off my words. If she only knew. "Anything for yourself?"

"No."

"No?"

"That's it."

I spent a few seconds worrying about her reaction. Maybe that was a little bit too honest. And then her next words made me feel like I was flying.

"I want you to be happy, too."

I was happy right now. Just being near here was the only thing that I needed, would ever need. Just her. I unconsciously bent my head towards her at the thought.

"Are you happy right now?" I asked. That was all I needed.

"Yes." Her soft lips moved slowly, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from them.

I looked into her deep brown eyes and the gold flecks in them. My head was slightly above hers on the pillow, so that she had to look up at me through her long lashes.

"Then I'm happy, too." We were so close that our noses grazed, and I wasn;t able to think anymore. At that moment, I could care less what Sam thought.

Hesitantly, I let my mouth find hers. What if she rejected me? But then when she parted her lips slightly, I forgot any doubts. This was, without a doubt, the best moment of my life. I pulled her closer to me, wishing that we could stay like this forever. My heart was pounding in my chest, wanting to explode with euphoria. And then her small hand found my bare chest, and a shudder ran through me at the small touch. Better than heaven.

_Quil!_ A deep voice called inside my head. Damn it. I growled at the voice, cursing Sam to the lowest level of hell. My head began to pound, and I torturously pulled away from the warmth of Claire's lips.

"We can't, Claire." I truly hated Sam.

"You can't, or you don't want to?"

Oh my God, she had no idea. "I can't."

Claire looked relieved by the thought. "You said you wanted to make me happy," she pointed out, pouting slightly. "I'm happiest with you."

For a second, I couldn't breathe. The smile that spread across my face was involuntary, prompted by the knowledge that Claire wanted me. She wanted me.

"Me, too. But I still can't."

Claire looked sad, hurt by my words. "I know."

I hugged her to me. The feel of her small, delicate body against mine was incredible. I wanted so badly for her to know how much I wanted to be with her.

"I love you," I whispered into her hair. My head throbbed violently with Sam's orders, but I didn't care. I had to tell Claire.

Then, before I could succumb once more to her lips, I forced my arms to unwrap themselves from her. I crossed the room quickly, suddenly unsure.

I was sure that that kiss had been the most perfect thing of my life, but I was unsure what to do. Claire was still so young. And I couldn't be with her…yet. Claire needed to be a normal kid, to grow up without the suffocation of a fate that had been chosen for her. Claire had to want me, not feel obligated to want me. But how could I wait? How could I tell her everything? And would she still want me after I finally did?

Sam's rough voice sounded from my memories. _Claire deserves a normal life. _

And I was anything but normal. I didn't deserve Claire.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer**

**A/N: SORRY. I know I am an atrocious person for making you wait so long. I truly appreciate your enthusiasm for the story, though, I swear!**

**Chapter Ten**

Quil was avoiding me. Or at least that's how it seemed. It really hurt me that he didn't come around for the rest of the day after that amazing morning. Sure, it was only the next day, but every time a car door slammed on the street I would jump up and rush to the window, only to be disappointed.

Being apart from Quil had always been hard, but now that difficulty was made tangible. There was actually an uncomfortable pressure on my chest- like a weight that made it impossible to take a full breath, or even to laugh properly. And the ache would twinge really badly when I thought about how his hot lips had felt crushed against mine…

"Claire!"

"Uh, yeah?" I responded to the annoyed voice. I looked around to see Riley glowering at me, pulling on her zebra striped sweatpants.

"Snap out of it! Jeez, what's with you? You were so like…absent during rehearsal today. Is it Patrick?"

"Umm…" came my brilliant response. I didn't know what to even say about the whole Patrick situation.

"I'm sorry, Riley," I apologized. "I just couldn't focus today."

She huffed and blew some pieces of her bangs away from her face. "Whatever."

Great. Not only was I hurting from missing Quil, but Riley was still mad at me. God, I had really messed things up. I had put Patrick before my best friends in the world.

Riley tied the string to her sweatpants and stood up, grabbing her duffel. "See you at school, Claire."

"Wait!" I called, still thinking about how awful I'd been to her. She was basically the only friend I had within ten years of my own age. "Do you want to sleep over tonight?"

"We have school tomorrow," Riley said, but she looked like she might want to.

"Please? I know we haven't spent much time together lately."

"That's an understatement."

"Riley, I really am sorry. I promise we can stay up till at least two am talking about everything."

Riley's eyes sparkled momentarily with the promise of gossip. "Oh, alright. My Mom's here to pick me up, but I'll talk to her and then come over to your house later with all my stuff for school."

I grinned widely. "That sounds awesome! Oh, and I rented Juno!"

Riley smiled in spite of herself. "I love that movie!"

I stood up too, and went to join her by the door. "I'll see you soon, then, Riley."

I left the studio feeling lighter than I had all day. I missed Quil, of course, but I finally felt like my life was back on the right track. I needed to start picking up the pieces.

An hour and a half later, I was sitting on my front porch waiting for Riley's mom to drop her off. It was almost summer, and the crickets had decided that it was time to get down to business, humming loudly in search of a mate. _That sound is so annoying,_ I thought absently, _a bunch of horny crickets singing all summer long…_

Before I could start to wonder if Quil was planning on being a part of _my_ summer, Riley's mom's electric blue hybrid sedan pulled up, seventies rock blaring. I helped Riley carry her mountains of stuff into the house, and trailed after her while she saw her mom off.

Watching Riley and her mom interact is quite possibly one of the more entertaining things you will ever see in your life. Riley's mom's first name was Dawn, if you believe it. Dawn was actually pretty young, like maybe only thirty-five or something. Her hair was long and perfectly straight, with two small pieces of reddish hair pulled back, like something out of a hippie movie. She always wore loose fabrics, and ate only organic foods. She also owned the only record store in La Push. Anyway, her and Riley are pretty funny together. Here's this fifteen year old girl talking to a woman who looks almost as young as she is, both in chunky bracelets and with hand woven bags. And get this- they don't speak English. Yes, they are both Caucasian Americans. But every couple of years, they start to study a new language, and speak only that language at home until they've mastered it. So far, Riley knows Mandarin, Spanish, Portuguese, English, and she and her mom were currently chatting in what sounded like Arabic.

Finally Riley managed to extricate herself from her worried mother, giving her a kiss.

"Bye, Dawn," Riley said as her mom drove away.

"Bye Riles!" her mom called back, thrusting one hand out the window behind her in farewell as she sped off.

"Is that one new?" I asked Riley, pointing to the least grimy bumper sticker on the back of their sedan.

"Yeah, she just got that one last week."

"Huh." It was black and had the numbers "1.20.09" written in white. Underneath that were the words "Bush's Last Day." I had to hand it to Dawn- she didn't do anything halfway. You would understand better if you saw her house- did I mention it was the only pink house with a yellow sunset mural in La Push?

After we walked up the stairs and into my room, Riley dropped her bag in the middle of the floor, spun around on her heel, and arched one eyebrow at me. She actually looked sort of scary, like she was expecting me to confess a murder or something.

"What, Riley?"

"Oh come on, Claire," she whined. "I've been promised some gossip and movies, now start talking and I'll put in the DVD!"

I laughed; unfortunately it sounded too high and strained to be natural. But Riley wasn't my good friend for nothing; she dropped she playful face and steered me to the side of the bed.

"Oh God, babe, what happened?"

Suddenly, everything that had gone on the past couple of days weighed on me. The confusion with Quil, the awful memories of Patrick, feeling lost… I tried to wipe away the tears that kept flowing down my face while Riley patted my shoulder awkwardly. She was a good friend, but she was a little bit socially awkward. That was okay with me, though; neither of us fit in really well.

"I-I was just so freaking stupid Riley. I let everything get all messed up, with you, and with Quil and I wasn't even paying attention I was just trying to be what I thought I wanted to be and then I started to lose you guys and I didn't know what to do and then Patrick was—was—" By now I was blubbering like a big baby. My nose was even dripping a little bit. It was a mark of how strong our friendship was that Riley didn't scoot further down the bed in disgust.

"Sh, Claire," she said softly, still patting my shoulder in an uncomfortable way. Riley wasn't good with sad- I think that's because Riley doesn't know how to be sad. She's either super enthusiastic and funny, or really moody and angry. There's no in between with her.

I took a few calm breaths and gave Riley a watery smile. She looked worried, and was chewing her stubby nails even lower in stress. I noticed that they were electric pink this week.

"Sorry, Riley, just a minor flip out."

She ignored how I tried to brush it off. "Tell me what's going on right now, Claire." She looked like she meant business. "I know you too well to believe that was nothing."

I spoke in a low voice, probably because even I didn't want to hear everything that I was about to admit. "I messed up really bad, Riles. I thought that Patrick was okay. And then he- he-" I couldn't finish the sentence. I couldn't say it out loud; the word "Rape" was just too harsh. It was like the word was surrounded in barbed wire and would hurt to force out of my mouth.

Riley's face changed from tan to white to red in the space of about four seconds. She stood up in one sudden movement and headed towards the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go kill that son of a bitch." Riley didn't scream the words, but they were scary just the same. Scarier, maybe, because her voice was flat and inflectionless; like a statement of fact.

"Whoa, nothing happened!"

"Don't try to feed me that line again-"

"For real! I mean, it would have, and I wouldn't have been able t-to-" Deep breath. "Quil saved me."

Riley's face relaxed, but only slightly. She strode back to the bed and plopped herself down on it, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her abdomen before starting to pick at the feathers sticking out of it. "Explain."

"I don't know how else to say it. I don't even know what happened. Patrick was being… and then I couldn't… and then Quil was just there. And he saved me."

For the moment, she seemed to understand that now was not the time to press for details. I sighed in relief, hoping that the interrogation part of the evening was now over. Wrong.

"And?" Riley was still picking at down feathers with the patient and wise air of a bodhisattva.

"And, what? And we all lived happily ever after?" I paused for a moment, remembering the black eye that Patrick had been sporting. "Well, not everyone."

Riley's thin lips twitched, too, clearly thinking the same thing. "No, no, purple and green are soooo his color."

We burst into peals of girlish giggles. It was nice to be with Riley again. It was nice just to be fifteen again, for crying out loud.

"Riley?"

"Mmmm?" Smug smile. Damn her and her all-knowing-ness.

"MeandQuilkissedIthink." I confessed in a rush, totally unsure of what her reaction would be.

"What's that?" Riley's voice was playfully sweet. Okay, she was definitely enjoying this too much. I mean, I just told her that I was almost raped for Christ's sake.

"Me and Quil kissed."

Ten seconds of silence.

"Wow, Riley, it's been like, a whole minute since you last spoke. Is that a record or something?"

She was too busy processing to even hit me on my arm for the jab. It had seriously been awhile since her face first froze up like that, though. I debated about whether or not she would be offended if I got my iPod to listen to while I waited.

"Okay," she announced after another thirty seconds.

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, as in, okay. It happened and I accept it. So how do you feel? What are you going to do? Oh my god, did you…?" Her last question trailed off suggestively. Riley was my best friend, but her mom was a hippie, after all. She was just so comfortable asking about these things. No big deal. Like, 'How 'bout them Cubs?' except for 'How 'bout some sex?'

"No, Riley," I blushed furiously. "Just one small kiss. And I feel… good. Happy. And I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Well…" Riley looked at me tentatively, measuring her next sentence. "He's old, Claire."

"Not that old!"

"How old?"

"Um…" Quil was older than me, of course. But I had never really put much thought into it before now. And since the discovery of the picture, I was starting to suspect he might be even older than Riley or I imagined. I didn't tell Riley that, though. She would definitely think I was crazy.

"Claire, honey. You're fifteen years old."

"I know that," I told her irritably. And I was damn tired of hearing it. "But why does it mater how young I am or how old he is? I feel safe with Quil, and he would never hurt me."

"Get real, sweetie." Riley was just brushing this off like a silly crush. She had always known that Quil and I were close, but I didn't think that anyone had even considered us ever being close like this. Even I could see that to an outsider it could look weird. But feeling Quil next to me, holding me… it was so _right._

"I love him!" It was the only defense I had. Love conquers all, right?

Riley popped her lips loudly. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Okay."

There really wasn't much else to say. I didn't have some brilliant explanation that would make this all work, and she had given up on trying to convince me of my insanity- for tonight at least.

We stayed up watching Juno and some other favorites until my mom came back from her late night shift. As soon as we heard her car pull up in the drive, we promptly dove into the bed and turned off the lights. Mom would flip if she knew how late we were up on a school night.

The next morning was a hectic rush. We both slept through the alarm, or so Riley claims. I have a feeling that she threw her hairbrush at it around six this morning, but I can't prove it. But whatever the reason, we were now whipping our hair into sloppy ponytails and jumping into wrinkled jeans.

At seven-thirty we jammed our feet into running shoes, still choking down the last bits of cereal bars. It was a good thing that Quil was also running late, because he hates to wait.

"Where is he?" Riley complained, glancing at her Hello Kitty brand watch. She bought it vintage last year from a flea market, then bedazzled it.

"I don't know, he's usually-" The familiar car horn interrupted my explanation. "He's here, let's roll."

Riley opened the back door and unceremoniously slung her backpack into the backseat before sliding in herself. I went around to the front door to open it, looking down at my feet the whole way. I hadn't quite had time to tie my shoes yet, and I didn't want to trip over the laces. Plus, it was only now beginning to dawn on me how awkward this car ride could be.

Once inside the jeep, I took a deep breath and risked a look at the driver's side. But instead of Quil's open, happy face was Jacob's bored and solemn one.

"Jake? Where's Quil?"

Not good. Oh bad, bad, bad.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

**A/N: I don't really know what's been up with me lately. I've had half chapters of all my stories written for weeks now, but I've been having an awful time even concentrating on anything. I promise not to give up on the story though, so please don't give up on me! I know where I'm going after this chapter, so I'm starting work on Chapter Twelve tonight- scout's honor!**

**Chapter Eleven**

"Look, Jake, just tell me where he is." My tone was cutting, harsher than Jake had probably ever heard it. But this was important, and he was driving me insane. I needed to be in the school in exactly two minutes, and we'd been sitting in the jeep arguing for at least fifteen. Riley had long ago heaved a bored sigh and stalked off to her class.

"Claire, I'm sorry, that's not really for me to say."

"Is he in trouble?" I had to at least know that Quil was alright. I hoped that nothing bad had happened- although if his reason for leaving was something other than me, that would be the best-case scenario. Imagine, one kiss with Claire and strong, fearless Quil is run out of town. Wow, I'm like the freakin' bubonic plague.

"No." Jacob's expression was carefully blank as he studied the contours of the steering wheel, probably debating how long it would take me to get out of the car already.

"I'm not getting out of this car," I told him stubbornly.

"You have to go to school."

"No." Like the child he thought I was, my chin jutted forward and my arms crossed stubbornly over my chest.

Bored sigh. Driver's side door opened and slammed. Heavy, rapid footsteps. Passenger side door wrenched open. Warm, tree trunk arm lifting me easily from the seat. Door closed. Patronizing pat on seriously frizzy head.

"Have fun at school, Claire."

"Is he coming back?" My voice sounded desperate and pathetic, but I couldn't care. Jake paused with his hand on the driver's side door handle. I rubbed the gravel underneath my sneakers restlessly, nervous for the answer. If Quil were coming back, then why would Jacob be squinting his eyes at me like that?

"It's hard for him to stay away from you." That was apparently the only thing Jake could think of to say.

"What the hell?" My question was lost in the squeal of tires against gravel as Jake sped away. I kept up my annoyed mutterings as I walked into school. "Even Jake won't tell me… I'm not a child…Stupid, freaky idiots…"

Woah. I literally stopped in my tracks. _Idiots. _Plural. They were all in this together… it made so much sense now. I couldn't remember Jacob looking any younger in the past. And when he lifted me from the jeep just minutes ago… that was definitely the same weird Quil-like inferno raging underneath his arms. How could I be so stupid? It obviously wasn't a coincidence that Quil and all his friends- Embry, Jake, Paul, Seth, _Sam, _to name a few- looked so similar. Even Leah…

The final bell rang just then, interrupting my slightly disturbing line of thoughts. Was it a cult? Or something more serious?

I opened my locker mindlessly, grabbing blindly for my first period books and binder. It didn't really matter to me what I grabbed; there was no way I would be able to pay any attention whatsoever in class today.

_But then again, _I thought, _maybe it's better that you have a distraction today. _People were staring at me already, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Patrick's face looked like he'd been to war, and he was obviously not glued to my side like usual. I almost wanted to snort to myself- teenagers. For a moment, even I was repulsed by us. Was I that transparent? I could actually hear the hissings and whispers as I passed by.

Stupid high school. How could Quil even want someone like me? I had to admit it to myself: I was immature, and rash, and stubborn… and Quil was absolutely perfect. The morning passed in a haze of exhaustion (I would have to rethink the whole sleepovers-with-Riley-on-a-school-night concept), annoyance at the rumors, and worry about Quil. I hated to confess it to myself, but I was starting to go into panic mode. Jake had said it was difficult for him to stay away… but not impossible.

"Whoa, take it easy there, champ," Riley teased, glancing at my tray.

"What?" I was barely cognizant of the fact that I was sitting alone at a table in the noisy cafeteria, let alone that my tray was piled with what could probably feed… Quil.

"Still upset that Quil wasn't here this morning?" Riley tucked one strand of hair behind her left ear, the one with three or four studs in it.

"Mhm."

"Babe, I think you're overreacting. I mean, where would he go?"

"I don't know. You don't think I scared him away or something, do you?"

Riley didn't laugh like I'd half feared- and hoped- she would. She just kind of squinted her sleepy looking eyes in the direction of my bologna sandwich, cheeseburger, pita chips, and milkshake. "Maybe he doesn't know what the right thing is."

"The right thing?"

Riley heaved a big sigh, finally looking me in the eye. "I know you don't like to hear this Claire, but you're sixteen. Not even sixteen!"

I snorted half-heartedly. She was right: I didn't want to hear it. But could that be what was bothering Quil? He had seemed fine before, said he wanted to see me happy. Though, admittedly, if age was his only issue, that would be kind of a relief. At least then _I _wouldn't be the issue. Not really.

Riley and I didn't talk for the rest of the lunch period. That was fine- we didn't really need to. She understood that I was off in my own world, so she pulled out her sketchbook and started to draw. I concentrated on the watching the soft and hesitant strokes of her pencil, the way her eyebrows pulled together when trying to decide what to do next. It was nice, trying to not think for once.

I jumped in my seat when the bell rang and the movement jostled the untouched food in front of me. Riley stood up and grabbed her hemp tote, muttering a "See you later" in my direction, but not before sliding a piece of paper across the lunch table.

It was the sketch she had been working on for the last half-hour. It was hard to tell exactly what she was trying to show- she had been a little rushed, apparently. The white page had just one face on it, but I could tell that it was meant to represent two people. The left side of the face had a strong jaw, and a well-defined cheekbone. The muscles near the forehead- the same ones that popped whenever you chewed on a piece of gum- were prominent and well defined. Something warm about the eye made me sure that it was meant to be Quil. But the opposite half-face... Riley had purposely drawn this face very dark, shading erratically here and there. I had no idea what on earth she meant by that.

Unless that was deliberate? Was Riley- who seemed so aloof on the surface- more aware of what was going on than I thought? I knew Quil had a secret, so maybe Riley knew, too. Or maybe she was trying to convince me again that Quil wasn't right for me, trying to point out that there was too much about him a I didn't know. Literally an entire half of his life that was closed to me. Whatever she might have meant, I found my own meaning in the smudged drawing: I didn't know Quil nearly as well as I thought I had. Maybe I didn't really know Quil at all.

This ominous thought hung over my head the rest of the day, showering me with narcissism and gloom. The self-absorbed gossips in school probably thought I was scowling because of Patrick (who was loudly professing to anyone who would listen about how _he_ had been the one to dump _me_), but I didn't even care what they thought. I was so over high school. Why, why, why couldn't I just be done? Then I could be older and then maybe, just maybe, Quil would want me.

During the short bus ride from school, I continued to think self-depreciating thoughts. By the time the bus pulled up to my house, I was in an awful mood. I was too ugly, too young, too stupid, and too immature for Quil. I was just some stupid teenager with a crush- except it wasn't a crush. I was in love with Quil. I knew how weird that sounded, coming from someone so young, but I also somehow knew, deep down, that it was real. Quil was it for me.

I snorted out loud. Ruined for all other men before the age of sixteen. Wow. That was maybe Guinness Book of World Records material. I sighed loudly, dropping my backpack in the middle of the sidewalk in front of my house. What did it matter? Soft rain was starting to fall, but I was too depressed to care. It's not like I had anyone to look good for. My shoulders slumped and I stared forlornly down the street, my feet wandering aimlessly of their own accord. Maybe I should just start buying cats now. There was no point in waiting to become a crazy cat lady until I was middle-aged if that's what was going to happen eventually anyway.

I didn't know how much time had passed, or how long I had been walking when I blinked dazedly up at a small, simple house in front of me. Aunt Emily and Sam's place. Quil and the guys were always hanging around there…

_Stupid, Claire! Turn around! _The sane part of my brain kept yelling at me. For some reason, just the thought that Quil might be there propelled me to open the unlocked door- the word _crime_ was practically nonexistent in tiny LaPush- and step inside.

_He doesn't want to see you anyway!_ I paused just inside the doorway, suddenly unsure. If I got caught, not only would I look very stupid, but I would also probably be in trouble. What kind of creep just walks into a house uninvited? Never mind that, what kind of weirdo stands inside of said house arguing with herself?

"…don't know what the right thing to do here is, Sam."

I took a step towards the voice. It sounded so achingly familiar. Quil. It was Quil's deep, warm voice that sounded from the other room. There was an unfamiliar note to it now, though, strained and raspy, like he had something stuck in his throat.

"I can't keep lying to her," Quil's worn voice continued. I took a step closer, hardly daring to breathe. What was he lying about?

It was my uncle's turn to speak. "Not yet." Had Sam always been so bossy?

"Sam…"

"I've given you an order, Quil."

"You know how it is- you with Emily. You of all people know how hard this is for me."

There were heavy footsteps, the sound of someone pacing, maybe?

Quil continued, as it seemed my uncle was either deep in thought or ignoring him. "I love her so much, Sam. I need to tell Cl-"

"No!" A loud, crashing sound. "You won't tell my niece anything. She's too young to understand. She's just a child…"

A whirled around in the entranceway, heart hammering wildly in my chest. I stumbled almost blindly back toward the front door, knocking over the stupid looking umbrella stand as I wrenched it open. It didn't matter who heard.

So that was why Quil had been avoiding me- he felt guilty for kissing me to make me feel better. He was in love with someone else! Of course he'd probably told Uncle Sam- there was some kind of weird loyalty there- and Sam probably felt it was his duty to protect me.

My breath came in jagged gasps as I ran toward the tree line. Tears flowed freely down my cheeks. Whoever she was, I bet that she was beautiful and perfect. Everything that did not describe me.

What was Quil going to tell me? That he was leaving for good? That our one kiss had ruined everything forever? I might be able to survive it if Quil didn't want me like I wanted him- but if Quil told me he didn't want me in his life at all… that would tear me apart. I didn't know how to exist without him.

The forest was wet. Typical. My shoes were gone- that was interesting. I must have stepped out of them when I'd crept into Sam and Emily's house; old habits die hard, I guess. I shivered, realizing that I had absolutely no idea where I was. I had been running wildly for a few solid minutes, twisting and turning erratically on the way. I was pretty fast, too. I could be anywhere.

Well, crap. This was turning into the perfect day. The love of my life- okay, my admittedly short life- didn't return the sentiment. And now I was alone in a damp, cold forest. And it was starting to get dark.

I sat down against a tall tree- elm, or maybe oak. I really wouldn't know. It's not like my Girl Scout skills were going to save me out here; I'd dropped out my first year. It's not my fault, really. They only let us do the boring stuff: lanyards, cooking, that kind of bullshit. I knew I should've forced my mom to let me join the Boy Scouts like I had threatened to. It could've saved my life. No amount of table etiquette was going to get me out of the damn woods.

I pressed my back to the tree's trunk, curling my bare feet under me. I tried not to panic. People hiked around here all the time. How dangerous could the forest be?

Later, I would think of it as ironic that right in the moment that I started to worry about bears and coyotes, the largest beast of them all ambled into view. But, right then, I was too terrified to appreciate the irony. A monstrously huge… something was sniffing along the ground, its great head turned away from where I sat, shrinking against the tree. Chocolate brown fur covered the beast, which was as large as a monster truck- or maybe a boat. That was definitely not a bear or a coyote. When it eventually began to inspect the dirt on its other side with a fierce looking snout, inching closer each second, I caught a glimpse of its head. The only thing I could focus on through the rush of paralyzing adrenaline was its huge, pointed teeth. Perfect.

I sucked in a ragged breath, preparing to scream.

**A/N: Yeah, I suck for ending the chapter there. I know.**

**Join the community I created! I got so bored of reading the same stuff on here over and over that I made a community for only stories that are unique and well-written. It's called "Not the Same Old Story". Also on the subject of communities, I know there are hundreds on here, so if any of you guys are members, I would love it if you could recommend this, or any of my stories, to be in one. I know that tons of people find stories exclusively through communities, so that would be awesome. **

**Thank you to every single person who has reviewed, favorited, or alerted this story. Keep it coming!**


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah…

**Disclaimer:** **Blah, blah, blah…not mine.**

**A/N: Your reviews make me smile. This story is now un-paused; I finished my version of Breaking Dawn (finally) so expect updates!**

**About last chapter: someone said that Quil isn't "in love" with Claire, that he is more of a brother/father. That much is true for most of Claire's life so far, but now she's getting older. At this point in my story, Quil IS beginning to cross into the romantic love relationship with Claire, and that's why he's so conflicted. **

**& I told someone I would have this up a few days ago, but it turns out my hotel does not provide Internet…sorry! Right now I'm sitting at the airport in Vancouver, on my way home.**

**Chapter Twelve**

Just as I was about to let lose a guttural, primal shriek of terror, the beast turned its eyes on me. I have no idea what exactly it was that made my scream catch in my throat- it sounds insane to say that the monster had a certain look… like he wasn't going to hurt me. It sounds insane, but it's true.

The terror abated marginally, and I could focus on the monster in front of me. Now I could see that it looked similar to a wolf- except for no wolf had ever been that huge. A deep, chocolate brown fur covered him, and the color perfectly matched his eyes.

His eyes were really what made me sure that he wasn't actually a monster… crazy, again, but he looked so intelligent. Almost like he was telling me not to be afraid. I know, I know, put me in a straightjacket. But that doesn't change what I _know. _And I know that I can trust this thing- this wolf- with my life.

I scrambled up from my position sitting against the trunk of an old tree. The wolf had not moved once since it had first laid eyes on me- again, I felt this was a gesture from him to make me feel more at ease.

Slowly, trembling slightly, I stood up straight to face him-her-it… for some reason, I felt pretty sure it was a guy. So that's what he'll be… because it's not like I'm about to go and check, now, is it?

The wolf still had not moved. We were about six or seven feet away from each other. I noticed that the forest had grown quite dark; the only way I could even see him in front of me was by some moonlight filtering through the canopy above.

Slowly, I stretched my right hand out in front of me, and began to inch forward. It was just like with a dog, really, wasn't it? A huge, man-eating dog…

"H-hi." My voice came out in a croaky, breathless whisper. I took another small step to close the distance between the wolf and I. The wolf probably thought I sounded like an afraid child- wait, what? If I weren't so scared shitless I would have laughed at myself. Obviously, the animal wasn't thinking that, or anything.

And then it grunted- or as well as an overgrown wolf can grunt. The sound was similar to a throaty growl, but nowhere near as menacing. It was comforting and disconcerting at the same time. Perhaps I had actually cracked up? It was worrisome that I was even talking to the animal. But maybe I should have been more worried that it was communicating back.

I jumped slightly when he shifted positions. He settled his enormously muscular frame onto the forest floor. Even lying out flat he was almost my height. Those comfortingly human eyes didn't break contact with mine for a single second. He kept his vision trained on me, constantly measuring the amount of fear that was apparent on my face.

He relaxed minute by minute, probably because I, too, was slowly relaxing. At this point, the chances that he was going to eat me were pretty slim.

"Not hungry, huh, bud?" I ventured into the silence, still rooted to a spot about six feet from his sprawled out frame.

A snort accompanied by an… eye roll? I think that wolf just rolled his eyes.

"Call the men in the white jackets," I muttered to the forest in general. The wolf before me cocked an eyebrow. I sighed loudly and simultaneously shrugged my shoulders. It was God knows how late, and starting to get slightly chilly.

Now that I was over the initial shock of my burst of anguish and pain about… Quil, I was aware that being in the woods all night long was going to really suck. Like, royally suck.

"Guess it's just you and me for the night then?"

No reply. Kind of weird that I had sort of expected one.

"Where did you come from anyway?"

The wolf actually raised a brow at me- I didn't know they could do that.

"So even you think I'm crazy… no offense, bud, but you're the one listening." I paused for a second, just to see if the wolf would answer me. He didn't…shocker. "I'm Claire, by the way. And I don't really know what I'm doing here, I just kind of ran away and now, being the smart girl I am, I'm lost and cold in the middle of the dark forest at night."

Once again, the huge wolf thing understood what I said. At least, I didn't think it was a coincidence that he suddenly leaped gracefully to his feet to come-slowly- over to where I was leaning against the tree. _Oh shit,_ I thought, _now he's decided he's going to eat me._

Instead of swallowing me whole, though, he just laid down again right next to me. Some of his dark fur was brushing against my leg, and it made me shiver at the sensation. He wasn't cold, though, he was startlingly warm. The wolf then continued to stare at me expectantly.

Slowly, cautiously, and swearing under my breath, I stretched a hand out to touch his fur. He was as soft as he looked, but he was also just as dangerous as he looked; I could feel huge bands of muscle with just one touch.

Did he mean for me to curl up next to him for warmth? At this point, I seriously doubted he would eat me…but you don't crawl in an alligator's mouth, even if it's not hungry.

"Umm…I'd really love it if you didn't eat me."

I swear to God that wolf snorted. It actually made me laugh out loud, and I shook my head, lying back across his warm fur. The wolf seemed to sigh once, and then resume his even, deep breathing; I moved up and down with each whoosh of air.

"Do you have a name?"

He just ignored me.

"Come on, I know you understand me. You're not as dumb as you look," I teased.

The wolf's body vibrated beneath me- I think he was laughing.

"You know what? You sort of remind me of this friend I have. He's kind of… big, too, I guess. And he's really strong. Plus, he laughs at me all the time. You'd get along."

If anyone were to come along and see me, this would take some explaining; I was having a conversation with a dog on HGH.

"His name's Quil… he's really nice, too. He's actually kind of why I'm out here."

The wolf stiffened slightly under me, and twisted his head so that he was looking at me for the first time.

"My life's really that fascinating, huh? Yeah, well, nothing really happened. He's my best friend… but I found out he doesn't feel any other way about me. Quil's the best man I've ever known and that's why…"

I didn't finish my sentence. I hadn't said it out loud to anyone yet; did I really want to start with a wolf? Then I remembered that it wasn't something Quil himself wanted to hear from me.

"That's why I'm falling in love with him." I sighed. "Is that weird? I mean… he's a lot older. I know he thinks I'm just a kid. I don't even know how old he is. Or what he's hiding. He thinks I don't notice anything, but I do!" At this point I was practically yelling my frustrations at this poor bewildered animal. "I know that it's something big, but I don't know why he won't tell me! He says _someday,_ whatever that means! Ugh, sometimes it makes me so mad! And you know what makes me madder? I love him anyway! I really am certifiable!"

During my rant, the wolf stayed perfectly still. In fact, I don't think he breathed.

I chuckled sympathetically. "Sorry. I'll let you get some sleep now; I know you're tired of listening to me rave about nothing."

He whimpered slightly, but became silent as my eyelids drooped slowly; I was drained. Later, I thought it was odd that I was able to fall asleep so easily in a dark, creepy forest. Maybe it was just that this strange animal made me feel protected, for some unexplainable reason.

My wake up call the next morning was not a nice one.

"Claire! _Claire!_ Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing out here? We've been looking for you all night!" the booming voice of Quil called from the trees. I could see that, as usual, he was wearing only a pair of shorts; he was also wearing a look of mingled relief and anger. I quickly tore my eyes away from his body- that boy could do Abercrombie ads, I swear- and tried to wipe the tiny bit of drool from my mouth without him noticing. _Fabulous._

"What?" My voice was thick with sleep, plus I'm pretty sure I had crust and crap on my face. _That's attractive, _I thought with a sigh. It was just my luck that Quil would be the one to find me.

"Claire, you know better than to wander around in the woods! Anything could have happened to you out here! It's not safe! Everyone was worried sick!" Okay, so maybe the angry side of Quil was winning out over the relieved side.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "Hey, where did-"

"Where did what?"

"Nothing," I said, distracted. I had most definitely not dreamed up the wolf thing from last night. And it was gone. I was a little sad, but, I reflected, it was probably better that he'd left before he'd wanted breakfast. He was nice last night, but I wouldn't want to be around when he was hungry.

"C'mon, let's go."

The walk back was not a pleasant one; Quil was still kind of upset, and I'd wandered a lot farther than I thought I had. I stumbled often- I was really not a morning person at all. And it was awkward. Like, the most awkward situation I've ever been in. He was the one who kissed me, but he just seemed to pretend like it never happened. The greatest thing to ever happen to me, and he wanted to forget it.

"Quil?" I ventured.

"What?" he kind of snapped without looking at me. It was hard to keep pace with his long strides.

"Why did you say the forest was dangerous? There's nothing out here." We hadn't even had a bear sighting in… since I could remember.

"What?" He sounded caught off guard, and his stern demeanor slipped. "I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did." Why was he lying?

"No, I didn't."

"You _just_ said it!"

Thankfully, we were almost back to La Push. I could make out the first of the houses from here. I was getting angrier by the second. He was blatantly, flat-out lying to my face. We both knew it, too.

"Claire, I-"

"You know what?" I cut across him. "I don't care. I don't care to get another one of your flimsy explanations. If you were my friend, you wouldn't be lying to me, Quil. Thanks for bringing me home," I finished in a flat voice. Then I started to run towards the reservation, a lump building in my throat all the while.

"Claire!" he called, but I didn't turn around. And he didn't run after me; that might have been the worst part. My feet pounded angrily, sloshing mud and dirt everywhere; I didn't care. I was breathing erratically, trying to keep from crying.

"I hope you're happy with your girlfriend. You two deserve each other!" I couldn't help myself from yelling it back at him; what did it matter? But I was sure I would regret saying that- because it kind of made my feelings obvious.

_Goddammit, _I thought as I ran, _I still love him. _

**A/N: Yeahhh Breaking Dawn! I'm still not sure how I feel. I mean… what? What did you guys think? Oooh also I think it's cool that so many people from different countries are reading this! Give me a shout-out and tell me where you're from!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: So now that I've read Breaking Dawn twice, I can officially say that I am disappointed. Not devastated, but disappointed. I won't put spoilers here, though. And please, that's just my personal opinion, so no hate-mail. **

**Not much new here… next chapter's gonna be sweet, though. **

**Chapter Thirteen**

Quil's POV

I didn't go pick up Claire for school the next morning. I sent Jake instead- or rather, Jake was sent. _I _didn't choose to stay inside my house, picturing over and over the look on her face when she realized I wasn't there. What would she think? That I abandoned her? That something was wrong?

Of course, that's exactly why Sam had sent Jake to go to Claire to school. He didn't want either of us to think that "what we did last night" (you'd think that something unspeakable occurred, to hear him talk about it) was okay.

Sam had not been happy. As soon as I'd phased, he'd known everything, of course. Ugh. If there was one downside to being a werewolf, that was it. Having no secrets- absolutely none. Sure, technically it was possible to keep secrets. But of course, if there was ever something you really, really, didn't want anyone to find out… say, for example, your imprint's uncle… you couldn't really help yourself from slipping up. Especially since Claire _was _all I thought about.

So when Sam learned that I'd kissed Claire- innocently, in my opinion- he was less than pleased. I didn't know exactly what my punishment was yet. But if not seeing Claire was going to be it, then I'd have to convince him to change his mind. It would be unreasonable for him to order that… he knew the pain that would cause me. It would stab me so deep that I would swear there was a knife through my heart, lodged between my ribs.

When staring at the wall for about seven hours started to become unbearable, I decided to go see Sam. He had to understand that I hadn't meant any harm- and really, what did it matter if I told Claire a couple of weeks early? She would be sixteen soon, anyway.

"Sam?" I called out as soon as I strolled through his front door. It was unlocked, just like every other door in La Push.

I heard a sigh from the back of the house- Sam must be in his study. When I rounded the corner, I instantly knew that he had been expecting me. The tired and exasperated expression on his face was kind of a dead giveaway. "What?"

"Okay, I need to talk to you about this order you've put down, Sam."

He didn't ask me to clarify; he knew exactly what I was on about.

"I don't want to disobey you or anything…but it's just too hard not to tell her… and then we- she's sixteen soon, anyway… I don't know what the right thing to do here is, Sam." I tried to keep the whiny adolescent tone out of my voice; Sam would not respond well to that.

"I can't keep lying to her," I continued.

Sam sighed a big sigh and clasped his hands across his chest. "Not yet."

"Sam…"

"I've given you an order, Quil."

"You know how it is," I pleaded, "You with Emily. You of all people know how difficult this is for me. I love her so much, Sam." I would have gotten down on my knees and literally begged if I thought it would help. "I need to tell Cl-"

The furious voice of the Chief interrupted me. Centuries of power emanated from his one word, "No!" Sam stood sharply, causing the chair he'd been in the fall backward with a clatter. "You won't tell my niece anything. She's too young to understand. She's just a child, not even sixteen yet. My order stands- and if you break the rules again, you'll have to answer to me."

Pressure built in my head- the will of the Chief battled with my will to tell Claire everything. Finally, head bowed under the pressure, I nodded once in defeat.

_Slam. _Sam's and my head instantly turned in the direction of the front door, listening intently. I was on my feet in a second, glancing at my watch. It was after three… was that…?

I flew out the front door and sprinted for the trees, phasing even before I reached the forest's edge. I didn't care if anyone saw; somehow I knew it was Claire that had slammed the door, and her scent would be the quickest way to find her.

I heard Sam's thoughts as soon as I phased. _Bring her home safe._

_I will, _I thought back before plunging deeper into the forest. It took me only a minute to find her scent, but I spent another ten deliberating about what to do next.

If I phased back, how was I going to explain how I'd come after and found her so quickly? But if I stayed like this, how would I bring her home? I thought over my predicament intently for a few moments. In fact, I was so deep in thought that at first I didn't notice Claire. Or more specifically, I didn't notice that she had come stumbling in my direction. Much too close.

Claire was kicking at twigs and leaves as she stormed around the small space, staring at the ground. Still not looking up, she sat against the base of an old tree, muttering something incoherent to herself.

I stopped breathing, and began to back away slowly, pressing my nose to the ground. Idiotically, I thought that would help to make appear smaller, less intimidating. I don't think I made a noise- there was no clichéd _crack_ of a twig being stepped on- but Claire's eyes raised to look at me just the same.

I could easily read the rush of emotions on her face. Shock, fear, terror, desperation…everything that should be associated with a monster like me. Claire's eyes were wide, like some character in a comic book, and her mouth had dropped open. _Aw crap, _I thought, _now she's going to scream and run away. _

However, neither of those things happened. Slowly, the color came back to her lovely face and her eyes began to express caution and curiosity rather than terror. Claire stood slowly, but didn't step forward from her position near the tree. I stayed frozen, doing my best not to frighten her.

Then my brave Claire did something I did not expect- she began to inch forward and raised a trembling hand, as though she thought some huge monster would understand the gesture akin to waving a white flag in the air.

"H-hi," Claire's voice was barely a whisper. Did she expect me to talk back? Finally, I settled for the softest grunt I could manage- I didn't want to sound like I was growling at her.

I looked around now, noticing it was well past dusk. It looked like we would be spending the night. Carefully, so as not to startle Claire, I settled my wolf body onto the damp forest floor. Claire froze slightly at my movements, before settling back into a more relaxed posture.

"Not hungry, huh, bud?" Claire said after a few minutes. It was kind of cute, really. I snorted at her and rolled my eyes. As if I would ever do anything to hurt her.

We continued like that for a little while- she kept up a one-sided conversation while the two of us speculated on her sanity- until something came out of her mouth that made my ears prick up.

"I'm Claire, by the way. And I don't really know what I'm doing here, I just kind of ran away and now, being the smart girl I am, I'm lost and cold in the middle of the dark forest at night."

Well, I couldn't have that. Hoping that Claire wouldn't see my movements as threatening, I got up and carefully lay down again, right next to her. My toasty temperature of one oh eight had never come in so handy before.

When she still didn't get the idea, I shifted closer by a couple of inches, resting my flank against one of her thighs. I held my breath at the contact, willing myself to get it together. I was being ridiculous; Claire was freezing.

Finally Claire, cussing like a trucker all the while, curled up next to my warm body. It was a while before she fully relaxed, but when she did I let out a sigh of contentment. Even in my wolf form, the only thing I wanted was to be near her.

"Do you have a name?" Claire questioned, her voice slightly muffled by my fur.

_Yeah, _I thought, _but you can't know that for another…nine days. The longest nine days of my life. _

"Come on, I know you understand me. You're not as dumb as you look." Claire teased me in much the same way she would if I was human. My huge body shook with laughter.

"You know what? You sort of remind me of this friend I have. He's kind of… big, too, I guess. And he's really strong. Plus, he laughs at me all the time. You'd get along."

I always knew Claire was smart. And beautiful, and talented, and kind…

"His name's Quil… he's really nice, too. He's actually kind of why I'm out here."

Oh my God. What had I done to hurt her? I froze, desperately hoping for an explanation.

"My life's really that fascinating, huh? Yeah, well, nothing really happened. He's my best friend… but I found out he doesn't feel any other way about me. Quil's the best man I've ever known and that's why…"

_That's why what? _I tried to keep the intensity of my gaze to a minimum; surely Claire was beyond suspicious by now. But I couldn't help it- finally, finally, I was going to find out how she felt.

Claire took a deep breath, fanning some of her scent toward my nose. I was stunned momentarily, and almost missed the sweetest words I have ever heard.

"That's why I'm falling in love with him. Is that weird? I mean… he's a lot older. I know he thinks I'm just a kid. I don't even know how old he is. Or what he's hiding. He thinks I don't notice anything, but I do!" Even her anger couldn't mar the glow of triumph I felt washing through my body. Claire's face pinched up in adorable frustration, and if I was human I would have attacked her full lips right then, Sam or no Sam.

"I know that it's something big, but I don't know why he won't tell me! He says _someday,_ whatever that means! Ugh, sometimes it makes me so mad! And you know what makes me madder? I love him anyway! I really am certifiable!" Claire continued to vent.

"Sorry. I'll let you get some sleep now; I know you're tired of listening to me rave about nothing."

I couldn't help but let out a whine- there was nothing I would like more than listening to her rave.

Gradually, I felt Claire's breaths even and slow, becoming deep and regular. I didn't even try to close my eyes; I was too ecstatic to sleep. Everything I had ever wanted was just nine… wait- eight days away!

_Quil? _I heard Sam phase.

_Yeah. Claire's fine. She ran away… I'll bring her back as soon as it's light._

_As soon as it's light, Quil. _I could tell that Sam wasn't necessarily happy about it.

Embry was there, too, telling me to '_wipe the dopey grin off your face,' _but I was too happy to give him a retort.

I heaved a big sigh when the sun rose the next morning. I'd spent the entire night thinking about every word Claire had said- and I'd hit a bit of a snag. I knew that Claire loved me, but she didn't know how completely devoted to her I was. And it was hurting her, obviously. It was so completely pointless to wait just a little over a week to tell Claire; and in the meantime, she would be _in pain. _Both of us would be.

Now came the tricky part. I carefully eased my wolf body out from under Claire- she slept like she was in a coma, anyway- and shuffled into the trees. I phased quickly and pulled on the shorts I'd stashed near a tree earlier. I was going to have to play the part of the aggravated searcher who'd finally found who he had spent all night looking for.

I cleared my throat, working to make my voice seem tired and annoyed. "Claire! _Claire!_ Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing out here? We've been looking for you all night! Claire, you know better than to wander around in the woods! Anything could have happened to you out here! It's not safe! Everyone was worried sick!"

Claire was making those cute noises and expressions of an early morning wake up: pinched face, big yawn, looking around confusedly.

"Sorry," she rasped. "Hey, where did-"

Of course I knew what she was talking about, and it made me feel physically warm to know she was concerned for me- even if she didn't know that it_ was_ me.

"Where did what?" I snapped, wincing guiltily when she cringed away from my too-loud voice on this too-early morning.

"Nothing," she murmured, still blinking sleep from her eyes.

I led her back to the reservation, and gradually the façade of anger from this morning became much more real. I was sharply aware that the last time it had been just me and Claire- me as a human- I had kissed her. I had messed up, but there was no way I could ever want to take it back. God, those lips…

And now, because of some idiotic command of Sam's, I couldn't just pick her up right here, press her against a tree, and kiss her, long and deep like I was dying to do- my thoughts cut off there, because I was disobeying my alpha by just thinking them. I ran a hand through my hair, angrily tugging at the straggly mess.

Claire spoke after a while of awkward silence. "Quil?"

"What?" I choked out, afraid to look at her. Given the thoughts I'd just had… it might be better for me not to be too tempted right now.

"Why did you say the forest was dangerous? There's nothing out here."

Crap.

"What? I didn't say that." But I didn't believe playing dumb would work for a second; my Claire was not dumb.

"Yes, you did."

"No I didn't." I loved everything about her, of course, but sometimes I wished she weren't so damn stubborn. Because then I wouldn't want to smile every time she did something that proved just how strong she was.

"You _just_ said it!"Claire was getting really pissed now. Another of her attributes: she was passionate.

"Claire, I-" What? I love you? Not allowed. I'm sorry? I was, but mostly I was sorry that Sam was her uncle. I can't live without you? Please just don't hate me, at least until I get a chance to explain in eight days? None of those words seemed right to complete that sentence. She didn't let me finish it, though, anyway.

"You know what? I don't care," she interrupted me, and that hurt. I cared about her more than I cared about anything. "I don't care to get another one of your flimsy explanations. If you were my friend, you wouldn't be lying to me, Quil. Thanks for bringing me home." By the end of her tirade, she didn't even sound mad anymore. She seemed resigned- and that scared me more than anything. She couldn't just give up on us…could she?

"Claire!" I yelled, as she turned to run for La Push. My chest swelled, but not from happiness this time. It was from hopelessness- how was I going to fix this? Damn Sam- eight days could be too long.

"I hope you're happy with your girlfriend. You two deserve each other!" If I didn't have exceptional hearing, I probably wouldn't have caught her slightly hysterical comment, but I was glad I did.

A tiny, half hopeful smile played on my lips; she did care. Of course, it was unacceptable for her to be in pain. I would have to take care of that as soon as possible.

My smile widened as I followed Claire's tiny footprints to La Push, my mind filled with an image of her. I knew what I would do- and all I could do was pray she could forgive me.

**A/N: Reviews: Please and thank you. **

**Sorry this chapter took so long. I just started my first job as a waitress… and jeez, it's harder than I thought. If you ever come to the place I work, I'm sorry in advance for my awful serving skills.**

**Looking for something to read? I suggest joining my community… if you like this story, there's a good chance you'll enjoy the stories I read, too.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I'm BAAAAAACK (For real).**

**Chapter Fourteen**

The next days were hell. High school didn't help the whole situation- don't ever let anyone tell you that high school is meant to be enjoyed. It's not. It's meant to be endured. On top of that, I was constantly diving around corners or something stupid to avoid Quil. He always seemed to be around everywhere lately. What was up with that? When I need him and miss him, nothing. But now that he's so damn happy with some other girl, he's strolling around La Push, smiling like he hadn't just fought with his best friend in the world. That is if I really am his best friend… he was probably lying about that, too.

Riley tried to cheer me up at school today, but even she could tell that her attempt didn't really work. She'd made me a bunch of cupcakes that said: "Happy 16th Birthday!" in pink icing, with little skull and cross bone-shaped candies scattered on top of the chocolate. It was nice of her… even if it wasn't technically my birthday- yet.

I yawned at looked at the clock. In exactly eleven minutes I would be sixteen years old. Hoo-freakin'-ray. Who cares? I didn't even care, really. I probably wasn't going to get my license, but even if I did, LaPush was so small I could walk anywhere in almost no time at all. But mostly, I was really going to miss Quil tomorrow. Today. All week. Right now.

Nine minutes.

Can you make yourself fall out of love? I bet that most people would tell me I'm not even in love… that I'm deluding myself. But I know what I feel-

Five minutes.

-I would die for him. I'm a drama queen, I know. So sue me.

Two minutes.

I fell back to mutterings about how pretty the other girl must be. She had to be beautiful; that was the only type of person that could possibly deserve Quil. She was probably tall and thin with legs for days- hell, she was probably a model. And she and Quil would get married and have gorgeous babies who would call me "Auntie Claire" to my face and the Old Maid behind my back- because I wasn't going to have anybody but Quil. I was determined on that.

The glowing numbers on my ancient clock turned over, miraculously. I'd thrown that old thing across the room so many mornings that Quil would say- the thought brought another flash of hot loss, because it was now my birthday, and he wasn't going to be here to celebrate it with me.

There was the sound of something hitting against my window, and my head shot up in alarm. _Well shit, of all nights to be murdered in my sleep…_

Remembering that the stupid idiots that died in horror movies always made the mistake of getting out of bed, I huddled deeper into the covers. I internally cursed Riley for forcing me to sneak into so many rated-R movies.

Another noise against the window, this time more urgent and demanding. _What the hell? Is someone throwing shit at my window?_

I threw back the covers and jumped up in my stupid too-small pajamas and stormed to the window. I was in a bad enough mood as it was, I didn't need-

"Claire!" Quil's voice was unmistakable, even in a carrying whisper.

I felt like I should have responded, or made some move to show I knew it was him. I didn't, though; I didn't even have the sense to be embarrassed about how my hair looked or that there was a big "S" for Superman on my shirt.

"Come down here!"

"What?! Why? Quil, not to be rude or anything… but what the _hell_ are you doing here?"

"If you don't get down here, I'm coming up to get you." Something desperate in his voice made me believe that he would do just exactly that. "I'll catch you." Quil's eyes stayed on mine for a protracted second before I glanced wildly around in disbelief, finally opening the window wide enough to get through.

"You'd better."

"I always will."

What the hell? I decided to focus on not throwing up. I mean, the second floor isn't really high up… but it's no jump off the swings, either. I swung my legs over the ledge, nervous that my Mom would barge through the door screaming bloody murder the entire time. I gripped the peeling window frame for a moment before pushing myself away from the house and letting go. I was careful not to let a sound escape my lips.

Quil caught me as gently as possible, but it still hurt a little bit. He was so muscled that there wasn't a soft spot on his body. I couldn't be sure, but it seemed like he held me close to him for a beat too long before setting me on my feet. Almost immediately, he grabbed one of my hands and set a brisk pace.

"Where are you going?"

"You'll see."

I stopped, not easy to do with Quil tugging my hand. He could have continued dragging me along for miles without any effort.

"No, Quil, tell me, or I'm going home."

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand across the short bristles of his dark hair. "Claire, I'll just pick you up and carry you."

"No-" But I didn't get to finish. He was too fast for me, picking me up as easily as you would a doll and carry it in your arms. His warmth was all around me, protecting me from the night. His heart pressed against one of my ears and in it I heard everything. I could have complained and whined, but I liked being this close too him. Maybe it was one of the only chances I would get.

It lasted only a few minutes, though. Gently, like I might break, he put me down. My feet sank a half an inch- we were on the beach. Waves broke, keeping tempo with my shallow breaths. I was confused; what did this mean?

"Quil?" My voice was quiet. This was important, and I couldn't even see his face; he was looking out on the ocean. "Why are we here?"

It took him a minute to answer. When he turned, he took a step so that he was close to me, so close that it almost hurt to look into his eyes. Why was he doing this to me? Did he want to break my heart even more thoroughly? Black eyes fastened on me, and his dark skin was all that I could see.

"Happy sixteenth birthday, Claire."

His full lips formed each word separately, like he didn't quite believe he was saying them. And then, for the second time in my life, he leaned into me and caught my lips in a kiss. Heat was everywhere, and I couldn't hear anything but my heartbeat in my ears. We moved together like this happened all the time- and it felt so right. It felt right when he held me close to him, it felt right when he swirled his fingers in my hair, it felt right when he whispered my name so quietly it might not have happened at all.

"Claire," he breathed.

"Quil," I returned, before winding one hand around his neck to pull him back down to me. I would never get enough of this, us, him. I was feeling things I didn't even know I could. Everything was wind and thunder and flying all at once. It was supposed to be that way, though, I think.

We could have stayed that way forever and it would not have been enough. Eventually, though, I was pressed against to his chest, for some reason crying, and enveloped in his capable arms.

This happiness was too much, but I didn't need to tell him that he knew. I whispered one word into the blazing skin of his chest, but I knew he heard.

"Why?"

**A/N: Sooo… shorter I know, but I'm just dipping my toe back in the water. School is evening out, and I'm not working a ton anymore. Review! :-) **

**Also I posted something from my first All Human story. Check it out, it's called "Incarcerated". I'm going to try and finish this before I really get to work on that though. **


End file.
